Legend of the Knight
by TheThirdHallow
Summary: [A reimagining of The Dark Knight Rises] Batman is still hunted by the GCPD for the death of Dent. But the police aren't the only thing he's worried about as a new vigilante hits Gotham's streets, and it's the way he's taking out its criminals that brings Batman to want to stop him. With his moral code tested more so than ever, can he achieve this without it being broken?
1. Chapter 1

**The way I will be writing this out will be as if you are watching this in movie form. The reader won't know any exposition through thoughts or backstory, etc. (with the exception of the beginning of this chapter). So it will basically be like reading a screenplay for a movie, except it's written more like a traditional book. Hope that all makes some sense**

Chapter One: New In Town

Nighttime in Gotham, a period during which the only light in the sky the criminal underworld concerned themselves with were the moon and stars. Usually. But the Bat Signal that loomed in the midnight black is currently absent, and has been for three years now. Crime has creeped back on the rise like a predatory creature sensing no danger and lurking out of the shadows once more.

The innocent people of the city wonder and hope for another white knight to come to their aid, to fight against the returning darkness. Some of them, in retrospect, should have considered it too good to be true a person like Harvey Dent existed in their city and created such a great burn on its criminal activity within such a short time. To them, he was a true hero. A man who worked inside the lines of the law with the police to apprehend all those men in one fell gallant swoop...

But then the Batman...he had to snuff off that light. The district attorney...gone, along with two cops. Killed by the Dark Knight. And he truly was dark in the eyes of Gotham's citizens. Why, why would the Batman do such a thing? What on earth possessed him to act on such a horrible decision. He was a symbol for many, an inspiration. Several attempted to follow his example to fight back against crime. But alas, it seemed the Bat was no different than any notorious criminal from the underworld, a notion which severely injured the feeling of hope from many innocent people.

However, tonight, unbeknownst to them, someone new lurks in the city's shadows, using them to their advantage to fight back.

In an alleyway a young man and woman are making out when two thugs appear around the corner. They heard those familiar moaning sounds as first and second base were being covered and wanted in on the action...without the boyfriend, of course. One of them gives an admiring whistle and says "Check out the legs on that one, man." His buddy chuckles and says how he'd love to feel between them. The couple hears them and sees them coming. But before either of them could get away, the boy is grabbed by one of them, pounded hard in the stomach and he crumples to the ground. The girl screams and makes to slap the second brute in the face, but he snatches her arm mid-swing and spins her around. She's held tight against him with her back against his chest. The first guy steps up and grabs hold of her jean shorts, unbuttoning them and yanking down the zipper. The girl's weak nudges to shove him and his partner off are easily overpowered, her screams and shouts ignored. Her shorts are about to be shoved down...

WHACK! The second guy releases his grip on the girl as he collapses to the ground. Behind him is a figure in what looks like a black tactical outfit and a red full-face biker's helmet. His buddy freezes on the spot.

"What the...?" is all he utters before the assailant is on him, hooking him to the cheek and bringing him to the ground beside his friend. He then immediately pins him down with a knee to his chest. The thug struggles to fend him off and the assailant nails him square in the nose to stop him. And that's when he pulls out his combat knife...

A group of men are out on one of the loading docks. They have a delivery of smuggled heroin they've been waiting on. They're unloading it from the shipping container and moving it to their minivan, ready to be distributed.

"All right, that's half of it. Almost done," says one of the men.

They all hear a noise out of nowhere, a yelp and then a loud thud.

"What the hell...?"

All six of them turn toward the direction of the sound, away from the dock. They knew their man Chuck was keeping a look out for the cops. Did they find them? No...they would have heard sirens followed by announcing shouts.

The six of them took a couple steps toward the source of the noise, guns raised.

"Chuck! You good, man?"

Nothing.

There's silence for couple more seconds, and then they are attacked from behind. A figure in black and a red helmet begins wailing on them with handguns in his fists. He moves with frightening fluidity and finesse. The six of them attempt to go hand-to-hand with him, but he is much too quick and better trained. They attempt to shoot him down but he fires right back, only his bullets actually hit them... A kneecap, a leg, an arm... One by one they're quickly brought down, moaning and groaning and holding their newly-injured body parts. That's when they notice the mysterious figure has vanished. They have no clue who he could be...

...but he sure isn't the Batman.

"New Vigilante Terrorizes Gotham" reads the headline of a newspaper Detective Ramirez slaps on the desk of Commissioner James Gordon. Gordon looks down at it.

"Him again?"

"One of the gang members that got jumped last night confirmed it was him by his red helmet. Incapacitated all six of them with his handguns."

Gordon shakes his head. "Jesus... This and mugging those rapists a few days before."

"Technically there was no rape involved."

"Well there would have been had he not cut off his..." He motions with his hand up in the air as he trails off.

Ramirez smirks a bit. "You sure you want to go after this new guy, chief?"

Gordon looks up at her, raising an eyebrow. "I take it you don't. Why's that?"

She simply shrugs. "I know it won't be the most popular opinion, but... It's the first time crime has dropped any since the Batman went on the run."

"That doesn't excuse the fact that this new vigilante has been coloring outside the lines just as Batman has, detective. In fact, I don't know if you've noticed, but this one's worse. Before..." He pauses a second, a mournful look on his face, "...before Dent, Batman never killed anyone. This guy's already firing bullets and lobbing off body parts. It won't be long until he simply kills someone, if he hasn't already done so."

Ramirez considers this for a couple seconds before saying "Less people to take care of in prison then." Gordon frowns at her, to which she merely shrugs and says "Just saying..."

Gordon sighs again and chooses to change the subject. "Anything new on the burglar?"

"Not since the robbery last week."

"Hm." Gordon stands up and faces his cork board where a couple photos are tacked; black and white grainy camera images of a feminine figure in a body suit, the head of the outfit is shaped with ears like a cat. Gordon stares at the photos for a moment. "And when security tried to stop her she used what?"

"A bullwhip, sir."

Gordon shakes his head. "Seems everyone new in this city has to have some sort of gimmick..."

"Well...that would be because of you-know-who," says Ramirez with another smirk before she exits the office. Gordon watches her leave and then returns his attention to the headline on the paper, lifting it up to read it.

Under a bridge downtown a maroon van pulls up and parks. Three men in dress shirts and suit jackets step out carrying either handguns or automatic weapons. Just as they do, another one, black, pulls up from where the first men came from and parks right beside them. Three more armed men exit the vehicle, dressed in similar fashion. All except one, wearing what looks like a potato bag over his head, holes were cut for eyes and frown stitched with black thread. The Scarecrow, Doctor Jonathan Crane.

One of the men from the maroon van speaks first. "I didn't think you'd show I'm still surprised you called us in the first place."

Scarecrow holds up his arms. "I welcome anyone willing to help me take out Don Falcone...but I also welcome any new potential buyers."

"So you brought them?"

He gestures to behind the vehicles. "Right this way."

All the men follow Scarecrow to the back of the black van. He opens it, revealing a large black container and pops it open. Inside are some automatic weapons.

"Everything here as I described, gentlemen," says Crane. The men from the maroon van each take one and inspect them; weighing them, holding them to eye level and taking aim, checking the magazines, etc. Some words of approval are muttered among them.

"And," Crane continues as he pulls out a small suitcase, "as a token of gratitude toward your investment..." He opens the case and takes out a small glass bottle of grey liquid, giving it a tiny shake. "a sample of my new compound. This one is non-toxic, but it will terrorize the mind twice as long as the original."

The investor gives him a nod. "We'll take it." He gestures to one of his men and he obtains a suitcase of their own from their van, opens it and shows the cash inside. There's a moment of pause as the Scarecrow's men curl their lips into small smiles...but it's cut short by a sultry female voice which makes some of them jump and raise their weapons.

"Mm, that's a lot of money..."

She seemingly appears from nowhere and all of them turn to face her. She's a shapely young woman in a skin-tight leather bodysuit. The head of her costume has ears on top shaped like those of a cat. Tufts of black hair are seen peeking out of her cowl. Around her waist is some sort of utility belt, similar to the Batman, while rolled up in one hand she holds what looks like a bullwhip. Some of the men are a bit nonplussed upon seeing her, unsure what to make of her appearance, while others, perhaps, become slightly aroused by it.

"Imagine what a girl like me could do with so much of it." Then she unrolls her whip. A couple of the men step forward, ready to shoot if necessary, but the woman makes the first move instead... She snaps her whip and it strikes the hand of the man closest to her, causing him to drop his handgun in a painful yelp. A couple more quick flicks of her wrist and two more guns fall to the ground along with two barks of pain as the owners clutch at their wrists. She then dashes forward, places her hands on the closest one's shoulder, pushes herself up, steps on them and does an acrobatic flip launching herself to the other three men. She agilely disarms them with a sweeping kick and some quick punches, managing to avoid Scarecrows gas in the process as it backfires onto one of his henchmen. The remaining three men run to meet her but she handles them as well with a couple more kicks and blows to the face. The whole encounter is over in just a couple short minutes. All six of them are on the ground and seemingly for the next little while. The woman smirks, rolls up her whip and clips it back to her belt, and then waltzes over to the case of money by one of the moaning bodies.

"Pleasure doing business with you, boys," she says as she picks it up. "I'll be on my way now." And then she eyes the small case of Crane's fear gas. "Hm...and I'll just help myself to this, too."

She walks away from them, one case in each hand, with a satisfied look as if having achieved a successful shopping spree. But she's only a few yards from the vans when a dark figure lands on the ground, using his cape to ease his descent. His appearance was hard to mistake: black full body armor, utility belt, black gauntlets with fins attached, and an emblem resembling a bat across the pectorals. The young woman wasn't expecting a visit from the Batman, yet she seems slightly amused to see him here.

"You must be the cat burglar I've heard about," he says in a growling voice.

The woman smirks and gives a tiny laugh. "Hm. And you must be the bat who killed Dent that everyone knows about."

Batman gives no response to this, so she continues. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to stop Scarecrow," he answers.

Another small laugh as she looks behind her. "Well it looks like I beat you to him. You're welcome. So you'll excuse me." She makes to walk past him but he steps in front of her.

"Do you want the gas? Here," she holds up the small case, "take it to the cops. Or keep it! I won't tell..."

"I can't let you take that money."

"Need it to buy more gadgets?"

He simply glares at her. The cat burglar sighs. "Fine..."

She sets down both cases to her side...and then throws a high kick to his side, which he blocks. She thrusts a couple punches at him, he knocks them away. The two of them scuffle for a short time, the woman attempting to hit him while he stays on the defensive. The latter backfires on him, however, as the cat slightly gains the upper hand. She lands a couple good punches and a side thrust-kick to the bat's abdomen. He shuffles back, nearly falling backward. There's a pause between them for a few seconds as they both catch their breath.

"You're pretty good," says the bat.

"Well my mother told me I should learn to defend myself, so..."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Aw, well isn't that sweet of you," she says mockingly. "You'll kill a cop but you won't hurt a woman, how very noble."

Batman's response leaves his lips before he thinks to stop them. "I didn't kill those people..."

"Oh no? Then who did?"

But Batman doesn't say anything to this, to which the cat woman replies, "What's the matter Big Bad Bat...cat got your tongue?" She doesn't wait for him to answer, though. She quickly strikes him again while his guard is down. Batman staggers a bit until he regains his footing and returns to the defensive, attempting to either trip her over or restrain her. Neither of them are coming to him easily; the young woman proves too quick and agile for him, showing exceptional skill and stamina. But as she shoves another kick his way, he catches her leg and shoves her backward, landing on her back with thud and a loud grunt. Her cheek gets scraped on the pavement.

"Now that's more like it..." She grins as she gets back up and stretches out the fingers her gloves. As she does, steel claws extend from the tips, triggered by pressure switches inside them. She throws a couple more high kicks at Batman to distract him as he dodges them, and swings an open palm on his left forearm, tearing through his armor and opening fresh cut. Blood shines through and lightly stains his suit. Batman gives a loud yelp before being struck across the cheek and falls over from a sweeping kick.

The cat woman walks away, retrieves the cases once more and turns to face the bat.

"Ta ta, Batman...," she says to him before taking her leave for the night.

Batman pushes himself to his feet with a small groan.

" 'Should do fine against cats', huh, Lucius?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Judge, Jury, and Executioner

A car rolls up on a street in downtown Gotham and slows to a stop in front of a closed down Italian restaurant. A burly man steps out of the drivers seat and opens the door behind him. Out of it comes the mob boss Carmine Falcone ready for a meeting with his boys. He follows his driver to the back door of the restaurant which is already unlocked and opens it for his boss. Inside are several men, including his son Alberto. They're his family, those who stood by him and stuck with him during his time away at Arkham. They kept his business under control as best they could during his absence. Today, however, he is none too pleased by some of them for what they had let happen. He sits with the seven of them at a large table in the kitchen with a rather sour expression as the men stationed at the docks the other night explain what went down...and why they lost the guns.

"It was just...one guy?" he slowly asks them after they finish.

"Uh, yeah...," one of them sheepishly replies. "Yeah, just him."

"Did he catch you all with your pants down?"

"We- we heard Chuck shout, he was keeping an eye out for the cops. We all went to go check it out, but..."

"He got us from behind," someone else finishes for him. He moved real fast, like Batman fast."

Falcone shakes his head. "Scarecrow must have hired him. That scrawny son of a bitch manages to get his own guns but still takes our away..." He pauses for a few seconds. "I smell a rat. There ain't no way Crane would know about the guns without getting to one of us." He then points a stiff finger at someone seated across from him. "Tony, get a hold of Orazio, see if he knows anything. If ya find out who it is, bring him to me so I can squeeze him out myself, you got me?"

That's when the lights go out. Some of the men mutter curses under their breath. One voice goes "What the hell?" and then Carmine's, "What'd I tell ya? Pair up and find the son of a bitch..." Guns are cocked. Seconds later...they fire.

Multiple gunshots sound, as well as bullets hitting various body parts followed by sharp shouts of pain. Flashes light up the kitchen with each shot being fired, creating a distorted, chaotic, and perhaps nauseating scene to pay attention to, as gun arms dart in various directions to aim at their target and one body after another drops to the floor. The sudden shootout is over in less than a minute.

When the lights go back on, seven of the men are dead on the floor with fresh bullet holes to their chests, their backs, their heads, and blood spattered like a fresh paint job. Only Falcone himself remains among the carnage. He's horrified by it and shaking, his gaze snapping from one body to the next and back again. The entire scene before him is a surreal reality he does not believe he is facing... His own son...

"Carmine Falcone," says an unknown, slightly muffled voice. Falcone wheels around, his handgun ready to fire at the intruder- BANG! -and his arm is shot, the gun drops to the floor with everything else. Carmine's heart skips several beats. There he stands; a tall figure in what looks like black tactical garment and some body armor over black clothing. A red full face helmet masked his whole head, with rectangular black holes for eyes instead of one long visor. Falcone begins to panic and backs away from the mysterious intruder, breathing rapidly.

"Wh-who... What the... H-how did...?"

The red-hooded assassin slowly walks toward him. Falcone continues to back away until he trips over one of his fallen men. The assassin holds up his own handgun, aiming between Falcone's eyes.

"Your angel of death awaits..."

BANG!

Commissioner Gordon and other GCPD officers are on the scene of the massacre shortly after the shootout was called in. His hands are on his hips and his mouth still hasn't shut since the moment he spotted Falcone lifeless on the kitchen floor, and the truth surely won't sink in for another couple of days...

Ramirez walks up to him. "How the mighty have fallen..."

Gordon's eyes remain fixed on Falcone whose face is frozen in shock. He won't be the only one. "Just goes to show you your number can be up at any time."

"Forensics extracted a handful of bullets from the victims. Looks like they all came from the same weapon."

He nods. "I'm sure we're dealing with one shooter here."

"You think it's him again?"

"I bet my sick days on it."

"I do, too... Can't say I'm sorry to see him go though."

"I'm aware of your admiration for the new guy in town, Ramirez, but this is exactly what I was talking about before. I'm sure he was also the one who phoned the station."

"Just let him do his thing, sir. I'm sure he knows what he's getting into. Chances are he'll get himself killed eventually. In the meantime he can take out as many of these mobsters as he wants for all I care."

"I'm not arguing this, detective. Because now that he's killed someone it won't be long till an innocent person is caught by whatever bullets he fires next."

Ramirez tilts her head back and forth. "Maybe. Maybe he's careful enough not to let that happen."

"That's something I'm not willing to chance. And since Falcone's now dead, the streets will only get bloodier as others try to claim what he lost."

At this, Gordon steps toward Falcone's body, crouches down and is silent for a moment as he stares at it, forcing his mind to let the reality sink in.

"Maybe...," says Ramirez, "the universe felt it was time to balance out the villains in this city with a hero."

Gordon slowly shakes head. "Gotham already had a hero."

Wayne Manor has long since been restored, brick for brick, after the massive fire which brought it down years prior. Inside the study at this time, Bruce is watching the breaking news with Alfred, his arms crossed. His mind is in disbelief whereas Alfred simply shows it in his face. The caption on the bottom of the screen says "Falcone Assassinated" and a still image of the late mob boss's face is seen in the top-right. The female anchor beside the image continues with the report.

"Word has already been flooding since early this afternoon when notorious mob boss Carmine Falcone was suddenly assassinated along with several associates of his, including his son Alberto. Falcone was infamous for much of the organized crime in Gotham city as well as the alleged, but never proven, scandal between him and the late police commissioner Gillian Loeb regarding a partnership between them. Now, Falcone's legacy has become just that. Social media has..."

"Well...," says Alfred, "I never thought I'd see the day."

Bruce's attention to the report is broken, but his eyes stay fixed on the screen. He shakes his head. "I'm sure a lot of us didn't... But I don't know whether to feel more relieved or worried."

"Why worried, sir?"

Bruce points at the TV screen. "The assassin. I'm willing to bet it's the new vigilante."

"The one they say wears a red biker's helmet?"

Bruce nods. "Exactly him. I have a feeling he's more capable than simple acts of vigilantism."

"If that's the case, then, I'd wager this new masked man had his eyes on Falcone for quite some time."

Bruce's eyes narrow a bit. "Why now, though? Why go after him? What's he after?"

"Perhaps it's simply a personal vendetta."

Bruce tilts his head from side to side. "Could be. Even so, I can't allow them, whoever they are, to keep doing this."

Alfred turns to him with a rather amused expression. "Do I suspect a bit of jealousy?"

Bruce gives a laugh and shakes his head again. "Not like that, Alfred... This new vigilante is killing people now."

"Assuming it is them." Alfred points at the TV. "But these were mobsters, and Falcone was the biggest of them all."

"That doesn't make it right for this person to play judge, jury, and executioner."

"Perhaps not, but the fact remains that a major player in Gotham's underworld is now gone, out of the picture."

"That'll only make things worse. With Falcone gone, his territory is now open to all the rest. They'll eat each other up for it. Gotham's streets will be even more at risk."

"Well then, let's hope they do the new vigilante's job for him, or her, that way you need not worry."

Bruce remains silent and simply shuts off the television before making to walk out of the study.

"I wonder if Gordon might be able to help me."

"By 'you' I suppose you mean the Batman, sir?"

"I do. I want to know if Jim has any intel on the vigilante that might lead me to who they are."

"And how, may I ask, do you plan to get him alone? Last I checked you were still on the GCPD's most wanted list."

"I'll think of something..." He exits the room and into the wide first floor entrance of the manor, then turns to climb the large flight of stairs in the center. "Remind me who I should expect to meet at the gala?"

"There's a woman hoping to meet with you; a lawyer. She's looking to become the next district attorney and would like you to support her campaign next year."

"Janice Porter," Bruce says, nodding his head. "I've heard of her. Anyone else?"

"Yes indeed, Mayor Garcia's cousin."

"His cousin?"

"Yes sir, a lovely young woman he mentioned to me at last month's fundraiser..."

"Alfred..."

"...and he insists you get to know her."

"Does he?"

"Yes, sir." The two of them stop at the top of the stairs and turn to each other. Bruce has a slightly stubborn look on his face while Alfred wears an innocent expression, acting as though he isn't doing anything wrong. Bruce knows he'll suggest to go along with the mayor's request.

Sure enough Alfred inhales and says, "Master Wayne...I believe it's past time you put yourself back out there."

"Alfred, I have been."

"No. Coming home with a model from a different country every other night is not 'putting yourself back out there'. That's coping with loss."

"Rachel was my best friend."

"I know, sir, and I miss her just as much as you do, although probably less so. I'm not suggesting you meet this woman to help forget about Rachel...I just want you to be happy. Your safety and well being are the only things I've ever wanted for you, and still want."

Bruce sighs at this, tilting his head to the floor and then bringing it back up to look at his dear old friend.

"I know...you're right." He then nods and smirks. "Well it's not as though I have a choice anyhow, so I guess I'll meet her then."

This makes his butler smile. "Wonderful." And the two of them continue along the second floor.

"I can't promise anything will come of it."

"Oh that's all right. Then might I suggest online dating?"

This makes Bruce shake his head. "Wow..."

"You never know," he continues, ignoring his comment. "New love can happen in the most unexpected ways."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: The Bat and the Cat

Gordon has returned to his office after being at the crime scene and giving his statement to the press. Now came the time to fill the mandatory paperwork regarding the massacre with the events of the past couple hours still bobbing up and down in his mind. Everything about the shooting - how it happened, who was behind it and why - had been laid out in his imagination like fitting pieces of a puzzle together. Some of them weren't quite fitting, but he didn't have the time to figure them out just yet.

He sits down at his desk just as a knock is made on his door. Ramirez is standing there with a slip of paper in her hand.

"Yeah?" Gordon asks.

"A report from forensics. The bullets extracted from Falcone's men, all the serial numbers were filed off. There were no fingerprints left on them, either."

"So we have no way of tracing them back to the assassin..."

"The Red Hood." Gordon gives her a puzzled look before she continues. "It's the name people are giving him, because of his helmet."

"Of course he has a name... Thank you, Ramirez. You can leave that on my desk."

She does so and exits his office, closing the door behind her. Gordon grabs the paper and gives a brief glance over it. Nothing about it gives him a clue as to who the Red Hood may be or what he wants, only a reiteration of what he (or she) is capable of. He sets the paper down and turns on his computer, ready to fill out the report when something out of the corner of his eye catches his attention. By his computer is a framed photo of his son, and sticking out from the frame is a small folded-up note. "Jim" is written on the outside of it.

Gordon pulls it out and stares at it for long moment before unfolding it. His eyebrows raise as he reads the message.

Long time, no talk

Meet me on the roof around midnight

-B

Beside the "B" is a tiny rough symbol of a bat. Gordon's eyes furrow a little, though it wasn't hard for him to guess what he might want to meet him for. Although while he won't be able to help him much, it certainly will be nice to see him in person without feeling obligated to arrest him.

Jim stares at the spotlight on the rooftop, remembering when Falcone was tied to it those years prior and how the Bat Signal was made a short time later, before it was destroyed. He wonders if the signal will ever be replaced again. He likes to hope so...

"Good to see you again, Jim," comes a familiar growling voice from behind him, which makes him jump a little. He turns and there he is, cape and cowl and all else.

Jim nods. "Yeah, you too... I see you've managed to keep away from us for three years so far."

Batman tilts his head from side to side. "Minus one close call."

"Well you're lucky I announced our arrival that time."

Batman gives one nod. "I know..." It's all he manages to say to this. He's thankful, certainly, but a small measure of embarrassment holds him back from physically saying it to him. Instead, he says, "The new vigilante...what can you tell me about him?"

"Besides taking out the city's most notorious moss boss?" Gordon shakes his head. "Just that he managed to acquire a shipment of his guns, and that he apparently fights like a one man army. You ought to like him."

"He's a killer now, he needs to be stopped."

"Some of my colleagues disagree, as I'm sure do some of the citizens of Gotham. They think he's helping this city."

"It's only a matter of time before innocent people get caught in his crosshairs."

Gordon nods. "I know that. But catching him can't exactly be done when he hasn't left any trace evidence or sticks around long enough to get a good look at him. Or her. You might have better luck, even with us still out to get you."

Batman nods in agreement. "I'll find a way, and I'll bring them in for you."

"Thank you."

Batman turns and walks to the edge of the roof, ready to fly off before Gordon stops him. "Look..." Batman turns back. "It's been three years now. Maybe at some point...I can make a statement to clear your name. Tell the city what really happened."

But Batman slowly shakes his head. "No. Even in death, Gotham remembers Dent as their true hero. The truth would destroy that image."

Gordon shrugs. "Maybe not. Maybe they'll be understanding."

"That's not something I'm willing to risk... I'll be okay, Jim. Take care."

Without waiting for Gordon to give a reply, Batman turns back around and launches off the rooftop, gliding away into the night.

The Monarch Theater is bustling with some of Gotham's extravagant and wealthy the very next night for the annual Masquerade Ball. Inside the ballroom dozens of people are paired together, swaying this way and that to a slow-playing string orchestra. The majority of them are wearing masquerade masks, each of them varying in some dark color.

Among the crowd Bruce wears a polite smile on his face as he listens to Abigail, the mayor's cousin, tell a story. His hand holds a glass of wine, which he absentmindedly sips from periodically during their chat. She's a lovely-looking woman around Bruce's age; dark brown hair, slender figure, tan skin, and wearing a white dress with a white mask. Bruce was one of the few who didn't care to wear a mask. The facade he put on as Bruce Wayne was enough without one. Abigail's also holding a glass of wine, which Bruce guessed in his head was her way to make it easier to speak to him. Being a billionaire playboy did sometimes intimidate women his age from conversing with him. To him, though, Abigail is doing okay so far.

"So then, oh my gosh, my sister says to the Uber driver 'I one-hundred percent need to vomit'..."

"Oh no...," says Bruce with a light chuckle.

Abigail nods and giggles. "Mhm, and the driver immediately pulls over. She already opens her door before he even stops but...only half of it gets on the road."

Bruce shakes his head and laughs, she does as well.

"She was so upset the next day because the driver charged her extra for the cleanup," she continued.

"Well," Bruce says, "just tell her to think of it as aiding his business."

Abigail laughs at this and says, "Oh I'm sure she'll see it that way."

There's a small pause in the conversation. Chatting with Abigail has been working as a simple distraction, though it hasn't been able to get Bruce's mind completely off the entirety of the event itself.

"So I know you like to travel. Where do you usually like to go?"

"Oh mostly Europe; Venice, Montenegro, London..."

"Ahh I've always wanted to go to Venice..."

But their conversation is interrupted by a young blonde woman a few yards away calling for Abigail and waving her hand. Bruce looks in her direction and Abigail turns to see who it is, then beams upon recognizing her. She appears to be with a small group of people, possibly friends of hers.

"Hannah!" She says, waving back and then turning to Bruce. "I'm so sorry, Bruce, I'll be right back!"

She power-walks over to her friend, gives her a hug and instantly begins chatting up a storm with her and her friends. Bruce smiles, although now he has no one to keep him distracted. He drinks more from his glass...

"Enjoying yourself, pretty boy?"

Bruce blinks and turns his head to the woman beside him. She's nearly as tall as him, has short black hair and a matching dress that reaches just above her knees. She isn't wear a mask, either.

Bruce looks back out into the dancing crowd, past them, as he answers. "I'm trying to."

"What brings you here?"

"Hands to shake and people to talk to."

"Hm. Well that doesn't sound too exciting."

Bruce tilts his head to one side and up again. "It's a burden I need to bear sometimes."

"Aw, poor thing. I suppose all that money must sometimes be more trouble than it's worth."

Bruce's brows furrow as he looks back at her. "I'm sorry, do I know you, Miss...?"

"Kyle. Selina," she answers with a contemptuous smile, yet holding out her hand.

Bruce matches her smile but shakes her hand. "Wayne. Bruce."

"Oh I know who you are. You're face is a little hard to mistake around here."

"Touché."

"Care to dance?"

"Umm..." Bruce takes a glance back at Abigail who seems to be engrossed with the people she's with. He looks back at Selina and smiles.

"Sure."

"Lovely." Selina hold out her right hand. Bruce takes it with his left and holds it up-

He makes a quick sharp inhale through his teeth. "Ahh..."

Selina stops. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just a little...hiking mishap." Selina appears to think nothing of it as they proceed to walk in the middle of the dance floor to find a nice space for themselves. Selina places one hand on his shoulder, the other in his left hand, and Bruce places his other hand on her waist. The two of them sway to the easy pace of the orchestra. The second after they begin dancing, however, Bruce notices something on her left cheek, something that seemed to be covered by makeup.

Bruce places a finger on his left cheek to indicate it. "Something happen over here?"

Selina looks surprised as though she wasn't expecting anyone to notice, yet she smooths it over with a small laugh. "Oh, just a little love mark from my cat."

"Oh..."

There's a small pause between them as they continue to sway back and forth, slowly rotating in the space they stand.

"So who was the woman you were speaking with?"

"That would be the mayor's cousin."

"Hm, she's very pretty."

"She is..."

"But?"

Bruce smiles a little. "She doesn't quite seem like my type."

"Maybe she isn't quite who she appears to be."

"Maybe..."

"Oh come on. All these people around us in masks, they already pretend to be someone they're not long before they came here tonight."

"And I suppose you don't?"

"I only wear a mask when I have to, I prefer not to be like everyone else."

"That's fair."

He lifts his arm again and she spins underneath it. Once again he winces in pain and grunts, Selina frowns at him.

"What happened on this hiking trip?"

"Ah...slipped on the...on the mountain, nicked my arm on a rock. Had to get a few stitches."

"Hmm," was Selina's response as she stares at it. But something in her look makes Bruce think she doesn't believe his little cover story. His eyes go to her caked-up cheek, the one she claims she received from her cat.

"That's quite the scratch for a cat to leave on you."

"I guess I deserve it. She was on my lap when I took something she was playing with away from her."

"Uh huh..." But it reminds him of the scrape on...

No..., he thinks to himself.

There's a small awkward pause between the two of them for a few seconds. Bruce's lips then slowly curl into a smirk as Selina raises an eyebrow at him.

"It's nice to see you outside your cat suit."

"Interesting to meet the real you."

"Mm...not sure I would consider this the real me."

"You're right. The role of the bat vigilante suits you more... You going to turn me in?"

Bruce shakes his head. "Not yet. The music's still playing, let's dance a little longer first."

Selina giggles a little. "Such a gentleman."

There's another pause between them before Bruce speaks. "So why is it you do what you do, Miss Kyle?"

"Why do you dress as a bat and beat up bad men?"

"I asked my question first."

"I do it to get by," she replies without skipping a beat. "Your turn."

"Fair enough. I do what I do because someone has to."

"You mean besides the police?" she remarks mockingly.

"Some of the GCPD are corrupt and can't be trusted."

"Well I'm not surprised. Is that why you killed those cops?"

Bruce frowns at this and looks away from her for a moment. Selina chuckles. "Don't worry, I don't believe you killed them, or Dent. What reason would you have for doing such a thing? But then if you did take the fall for their deaths, there must have been a very good reason... It's enough to make this one curious."

Bruce remains silent for a couple more seconds, considering how to answer before saying, "Some other time, maybe."

Selina shrugs. "Fair enough."

Bruce chooses to change the subject. "How did you get that whip and those claws?"

"Oh the whip I bought online, the claws I made myself."

Bruce's eyebrows rise. "Really? Impressive."

"Thank you. What about you, where do you get all your fancy little gadgets and toys?"

"A friend of mine has them made for me."

"I see, and what's this friend's name?"

"Ooh, that's private."

"Hmm, that's a shame. And I thought we were getting somewhere. But I suppose it's not farfetched to think you would associate yourself too much with a thief like me."

"Well...not necessarily."

Selina gives a little show of surprise by this. But that's when Bruce's name is called from Abigail's direction. She waves and beckons him to join her band of friends.

Selina glances over and looks back at Bruce with a rather amused grin.

"I suppose this means goodbye for now, Mister Wayne."

Bruce nods. "For now. It was nice dancing with you."

"You weren't too bad yourself. I'm sure I'll see you around out there. You won't try to arrest me again, will you?"

Bruce gives one more light smile before saying, "Have a good night, Miss Kyle."

He kisses her hand and walks away while Selina looks on, appearing as though wanting more from him.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: In Memoriam

The young man is at his apartment, scrubbing a grimy bike chain for someone's cruiser bike. He chose to work from home today rather than be at the shop. He opts to work from home when he can; makes it easier for him to leave on the fly if need be, though he still has his navy-blue button down shirt on to wipe any filth off his hands. "Jackson" reads the name on his left side of the shirt. He has been with the shop for a couple years and even owns a bike himself.

For the most part the apartment is quiet. On the floor beside the couch he sits on is a police scanner he obtained from a pawn shop only a few months ago. It's come in very handy for him. His mind is prepared for it to go off at any given second with a report he'll want to answer to, on his own. As of now, though, it's quiet. So he waits, scrubbing away at the chain over his coffee table. Then...

A female voice is heard from the police scanner, "Calling all available units, a 10-32 and 10-33 at Aquinas High School. Suspect is said to still be in the building. Requesting immediate response. All available units..." The alert freezes Jackson's body as his eyes snap to the scanner and remain fixed there for a moment.

A school shooting, it had to be... Too many of these have been happening lately, but this is the first one to occur in Gotham in several years.

Jackson hastily sets the chain down and shoves himself off his couch, then makes a beeline to his bedroom. He thrusts open his closet and moves some clothing aside, revealing a handful of automatic weapons and rifles hanging behind them. Falcone's weapons; the ones he stole from the docks. His eyes instantly spot the sniper rifle he is more than confident will handle the task he has in mind. Underneath the guns is the large black chest where the weapons came from. He knows there's a silencer attachment for the rifle somewhere inside, and so he unlocks the chest and pulls it out.

"How convenient..."

He disassembles the rifle and stuffs the parts in a backpack along with the silencer, grabs his leather jacket, swings the backpack around him and slings it on his back. On a shelf above the guns is a red balaclava ski mask which he grabs and stuffs into one of the pockets before rushing out of the apartment. Outside the building is his sports bike and attached with a secure lock is his helmet, the one the whole city knows him by. There's a plastic cover over it, however, with a black-tinted visor. He had this custom-made and is able to snap it on and off. His helmet has already become an iconic staple in his appearance as a vigilante, riding through the city streets out in the open would surely draw unwanted attention by this point.

He slips the helmet over his head and straps it on. He then roars his bike to life, kicks off the stand and hightails it out of the complex.

From a helicopter view, a flood of students and staff are seen rushing out of the building. Some of them stumbling over in a panic to distance themselves from it but others around them help them back on their feet. Today they share the same goal; to stay alive.

Police are already on the scene, their guns fixed in their hands aiming straight ahead as they advance toward the building. Other officers have approached from the other side in the hopes of flushing out the monster easier. The students and staff continue to further distance themselves from the school, some of them driving out of the parking lot, all of them working together to do so, looking out for one another.

However, just a couple short minutes later, a few officers walked out of the main entrance followed by a group of them holding what looks like a teenager, possibly one of the students. He has pale skin, short dark brown hair and close-set eyes, and they are staring dead ahead, past everything in front of him. Some of the panicked crowd look back and stop. A few of them make a beeline rush over to him, hoping to get their hands on him and attack him in a mad fury, but are fended off by the police. All the other students looking on do so with tear-filled eyes, some teachers and other staff as well. The boy is led into a car without giving any struggle whatsoever. But not five seconds after his body is placed into the back of the vehicle, the window behind him cracks and gushes of red splash onto the back of the front seats.

Screams pierce the air once more as the officers make shouts of "Gun!" and "Shooter!", instantly snapping their weapons upright and pointing in the possible direction of the source of the gunshot. No shot was actually heard, so it seems to them the attacker has a silencer on them...

Cheers...

Cheers come from several of the students upon realizing what has happened which only grows until more than half the front yard is rejoicing. Rejoicing for their unseen, unknown hero, many of whom have a strong feeling is the new vigilante; the Red Hood. The police settle their weapons back down again upon being certain they are not the ones in danger and that it has passed.

A few hundred yards away, on the roof of a nearby building and wearing a red balaclava ski mask, Jackson lies prone with the sniper rifle in place. His moves his eyes off the scope and listens. He can hear the cheers from the school yard and his lips curl into the smallest but saddest of smiles.

"You're welcome."

He then hears a buzzing and pulls out his phone to check a new text he received.

"Construction site, uptown," it reads, "Corner of Milton and Harbor. 10 o'clock."


	5. Chapter 5

**I just want to say that for those who have been following this, I am SO sorry for the delay in releasing the new chapter... I have been having a rough time with procrastination lately. I've been working on it by learning to develop better habits. But, I do have the outline of this reimagining complete and I do intend on finishing it and posting in on here. I swear.**

Chapter Five: Seeing Red

Ten stories up on the floor of a building of mostly metal bones and some wood and brickwork, several men in suits and button-downs gather together. Some of them appear rather grim-faced, while others look as though expecting nothing to happen out of the ordinary, business as usual. All of them are grouped together in three separate clumps. The Maroni brothers and a couple of their men are there, along with the Chechen and his, and Bertinelli accompanied by his own. All of them appear to be unarmed though surely each one can sense a handgun on everyone else's person. A man in the dark grey suit and light grey shirt with sleeked-back black hair speaks first to the host of men around him.

"Welcome, everyone." He stands tall at just over six feet. The man to his right is equally tall, though with a chubbier face and brown hair parted to the side. He's wearing a black suit with a burgundy button-down. The two of them appear to be brothers, equal in age as well and in their early thirties.

"I'm glad we could all come together and discuss this matter civilly."

One older gentlemen with a contemptuous look speaks up before the younger one can continue. "Don't be so proud of yourself, kid. Just because the Falcones are no more don't think that makes your family taller than the rest of us."

"Gentlemen, please," says the Chechen in his thick Russian accent. "I agree with Pino, so let us not bicker over something so petty."

"I'm only saying. We all know the Maronis and Falcones were always bitter with each other. But remember, Falcone had his grasp on the entire city. The man was untouchable...before the Batman showed up."

"And now he's gone, God rest his soul," says the man to Pino's right, "which leaves his territory and business partners unpossessed, which is why we are all here." He gesturing with his palms out and upward, moving them this way and that while he says this, his voice remaining casual to maintain the businesslike air. "We could all have easily fought over it like prepubescent children, but in this way no other families need to be put in jeopardy."

"Well we wouldn't want that now, would we?" says the older gentlemen, who looks on the verge of sixty, the sarcasm heavy in his words.

"That is enough, Bertinelli," says the Chechen. "Let us move on."

With a thanking nod to the Chechen, Pino continues with his proposal. "First we need to decide who will pay off Garcia's political advisor since he's no longer in Falcone's pocket..."

"Hold on, now," Bertinelli butts in, and for a second Pino appears as though he wants to snap at his elder, but he reels it back and allows him to go on. "What about Falcone's guns?"

Pino's brother helps him out, "We thought we would get the smaller issues out of the way-" But Pino holds up a hand to stop him while looking at Bertinelli.

"No no...fair enough. Let's discuss those later. I'm sure each of us would like a share of Falcone's shipments, and I'm also sure we would like one hundred percent of them. So before we get a hold of his supplier let's do a little math, shall we?"

And then, out of nowhere, a male voice puts confusion on everyone's face.

"I opt to take them all for myself." Each of the men either crane their heads or rotate on the spot to see where the source is coming from. Around the corner of a wall behind Bertinelli and his men comes a familiar black-clad figure dressed in light body armor and a red full-face bike helmet. "Saves me a good amount of money in the long run, which I can use on my bike instead."

"You...," says Pino, "You must be that biker punk everyone's been talking about."

"Well...that's not the worst thing I've called so far, but yeah."

"How the hell did you know we'd be here?" asks Pino's brother.

"I got one of Falcone's old dogs to do that for me. It's also how I knew he would be at the restaurant that night."

The last sentence sticks hard and sinks in, resulting in a couple whispers of "Oh shit" from a few mobsters upon realizing exactly what he means.

Pino raises his eyebrows slightly. "You killed him?"

The Red Hood gives a nod. "Sure did...and now I'm here for all of you."

And without waiting for any sort of reply or for any of them to point their handguns at him, he darts to one of Bertinelli's men, disarms him by twisting the wrist holding a pistol, uppercuts his gut, and throws him across his hip before moving to the next person. He disarms a couple more and simply dances around the mobsters; vaulting over them, dodging, ducking, countering any punches thrown his way. He was toying with them, and Pino catches on to this.

"For someone who took out eight men by yourself, you're not putting up much of a fight."

"Oh I know," says Hood, "I'm waiting for someone to show up first."

As if on cue, out of the black sky comes the Batman, swooping in from nowhere.

"And there he is...," says the Red Hood.

The large group of mobsters appear more frightened by the sight of the Bat than this masked kid who claims to have killed Falcone. Before the remaining armed men can fire upon him he zigzags in in their direction to dodge a couple flights of gunfire. He disarms and counters two of them-

-Red Hood does the same, making his way over to Batman. He vaults over a couple and whirl-kicks a couple more thugs-

-the Bat fends off a couple of his own using swift counter-punches with seamless effort, ready to disarm and take care of the Chechen-

And then the Red Hood is now on the Bat, jumping over one of Maroni's men to take a swing at him with a full-finger tactical glove hand. Batman is so unprepared by this that the hit connects with his left cheek and he stumbles just a little, but doesn't fall over. And as if it never happened, the vigilante's attention switches to one of the mobsters as he is about to swing at him. But he grabs and twists at his wrist with a rough "crink", dislocating it.

Batman hooks someone across their cheek and sweeps a leg underneath, bringing them to the floor. He blocked a couple more punches and countered them-

-Red Hood pulls out his handguns from his hip holsters and begins crippling the mobsters, bringing them down with 9mm bullets, their yelps and shouts echoing out onto the streets...

-Batman knocks Pino and his brother's heads together and they fall to the concrete. He grabs someone's arm and bashes his forearm against it, snapping the gun out of his hand before he jabs him in the face. He leans back and side-kicks another one in the gut-

-Hood brings down a fistful of handgun on the Bat, but Batman is ready for him this time, blocking the blow with his forearm and uppercutting his chest twice-

-Batman grabs a leg aimed at his torso and shoves it away, forcing him to trip over the Maronis. What the hell is this guy's problem? he thinks to himself, thinking of the Hood as one, two, three more shots are fired from his pistols and bringing three more hard thuds to the floor.

And now only two are left... Both of them stand a couple yards from each other.

"Well that made for a fun little tag-teaming," says Red. "But now that it's over..."

He aims a handgun at Batman's head.

"Who are you?" asks Batman.

"Don't worry about that. Just know that this is for Harvey Dent..."

Batman avoids being shot and zigzags over, closing the gap between them and knocks Red Hood's hand away just as he attempts another one. Round two now begins. Red Hood launches a hook to his right which he blocks and goes for a back-hand body shot - a swing at his red helmet won't bode well for his fist and his arm. Hood knocks it away from him and strikes back. Batman blocks it but isn't given much chance to fight back. The young vigilante has him on the defense. He lands a couple counterattacks, even manages to disarm him of his two handguns, but Hood by no means lets that stop him. He's fast. Faster than him, it seems. Batman wonders to himself who and where he trained from, or if he was self-taught. He has a gut feeling the answer to this is the latter. More than once he even grabs Batman's arm as he makes for a swing at him and holds it in place while he lands a couple blows either across his face or to his stomach before the Bat breaks away. Still, though, Batman manages to keep toe-to-toe with the new ruthless vigilante.

Red Hood grabs his arm yet again as he jabs at him, then grabs the other and yanks his whole body toward him. But he does nothing for a second and simply holds him in place.

"Why did you do it?" asks Hood. "Why him of all people, and those cops?!"

Batman just stares back, speechless for a second. The look on his face is as though this young man was someone he let down, hard. "Harvey was not what you thought he was..."

"Yeah? You want to try a different answer?"

Batman shakes his head. "You don't understand."

"Then make me..."

Batman's silent, unwilling to give the truth.

"That's what I thought..."

Red head-butts him hard with his helmet, staggering Batman backward. He pulls out his combat knife from a holster on his arm and the contest continues. Batman somehow still maintains his own, but struggles to keep up and do better than Red Hood's level. Especially now that a knife is in play. He swings it wildly while Batman dodges and blocks. He's swinging it wildly, yes, but not carelessly. There's some finesse to his movements, and Batman catches this. This certainly is no amateur, but he became sure of this the moment he believed he killed Falcone. No, he's well trained, very well trained. Each attempt the Dark Knight makes to gain the upper hand of the scuffle is thwarted by the Red Hood's agility and anger. A hook to his right, he counters. A kick to his chest, he dodges. Even when he does connect with any of the few blows he lands, Hood shrugs them off like tiny nudges. He shows little to no sign of slowing down.

Then - RIP! \- Hood swings down and the knife cuts through the Bat's chest between the two pectoral plates. Batman yelps in pain before the Red Hood kicks him hard and he falls to the floor, breathing heavily. Hood slowly walks up to him.

"I looked up to him... He was the only one who could bring all those criminals behind bars without having to color outside the lines. And then you had to get rid of him, didn't you? Snuff out that light... It really showed me then that there are some people in this city, in this world, who don't deserve to keep breathing when they do something so unforgivable."

Batman remains on the ground, wanting to say something to make him stop but has no words.

"Freeze! Hands in the air, both of you!"

Behind the Red Hood at the far end of the floor, two cops have their guns positioned at him. They yell at Red to drop the knife and he does, slowly raising his hands. Batman, however, quickly reaches to his utility belt and opens the compartment holding his explosive pellets. He needs a distraction to get himself out of this, injured or not. He takes out a couple, Red Hood watching, and tosses them. Red dodges out of the way and they explode in front of the officers. They're disoriented long enough for Batman to get up and launch himself off the construction site while Red darts off opposite the cops, rounding the corner he came from and disappearing. One of the cops starts off after him but is held back by his partner.

"Forget him! Call for backup on the Bat!"

Batman opens up his cape and locks its gliding form in place, fighting his brain's itch to wince and recoil from the fresh knife wound. Against this tiny struggle he succeeds in guiding himself to the alley by the construction site where he left the Bat-Pod. He gives himself a brief moment of breathing time to recuperate before saddling onto the bike, roaring the engine to life and thrusting himself out onto the streets just as a set of furiously flashing red-and-blue lights come around the corner of the building and give chase.

Batman groans slightly as pain throbs in his chest but he shuts it down, focusing all his attention on weaving through the nighttime traffic while making to lose the police vehicle - no, two...three now - close on his tail. He doesn't bother to look over his shoulder, he can hear them well enough. His attention is fixed on how to lose them.

He manages to make his way to the rightmost side of the road and breaks into a sharp right turn at the nearest four-way intersection. The wheels of the bike briefly rotate sideways to make for an easy tight turn and Batman presses forward, gunning on the throttle. The quick turn allows him to widen the distance between him and the police a little more. He then swerves through passing and oncoming traffic to increase this gap little by little, but it isn't working well enough. If he had his Tumbler he could lay down a few caltrop spikes to halt their chase - albeit at the risk of injuring them, but if he wishes to lose them he would have no choice. Unfortunately the Bat-Pod, as it is now, bears no such compartments which could hold those traps...

He makes a left turn onto a new street...and out in the distance are three more sets of red-and-blue lights angrily flashing and closing in on the Bat fast. One quick look over his shoulder told him the other cars had just turned the corner and now threaten to sandwich him in. The cars ahead of him screech to a stop, halting at an angle so to try and keep Batman from going past them. Or so they surely hope... The cops in front exit their vehicles and fix their guns on him...but he knows they won't shoot. Just seconds before they realize he won't stop, the officers dive and dodge out of the way as the Bat-Pod barrels through two of the cars, bashing one headlight on them both.

The vehicles that were gaining from behind slow to a stop while the other officers rush back inside theirs and wheel them around. By the time they situate themselves again, however, the Bat and his bike have vanished.

Inside a massive, well-lit cavern with a large waterfall, a black figure on a bike bursts through the falling water and comes to a stop on a wide platform. Batman steps off his bike, his upper body bent over slightly with a hand to his chest and growling through the pain he received just minutes ago.

Riding down a small open elevator is Alfred, a look of worry on his face as he stares at his old friend's new wound. Certainly worse than the previous one he received... Bruce had called him only moments ago, briefing him on what had happened. It was a struggle with anxiety whenever he went out in his cape and cowl, and this new instance is simply another tally among his good reasons why. He has become quite good over the years at trusting in Bruce's ability to look out for himself while tackling Gotham's crime, preoccupying his mind with other things during his absence from the manor. And then, every once in a while, something like this occurs, bringing him to hope Bruce will soon end this crusade of his before he returns to him in an irreparable state...

The elevator touches down on the cave floor and Alfred makes a beeline for a large metal and glass cabinet containing various medical supplies and grabs a suture kit, some gauze, iodine, and bandage. Bruce pulls off his cowl and sets it on a nearby computer desk as Alfred carries the supplies over to an operating table and lays them down before helping him remove the top of his body armor.

"I got it, I got it...," says Bruce. "It's not as bad as it looks."

"Well I've heard that one before," replies the butler without pause. Together they remove the upper body of the armor and his bare skin reveals a dark red vertical line between Bruce's pectoral muscles. Alfred sighs and walks over to the medical supplies. "Another scuffle with the cat woman, sir?" He almost always chose to make light of situations like these with a joke - usually a sarcastic one. Naturally, Bruce has long since grown used to them.

Bruce shakes his head, gently climbing on the table and laying himself down. He then switches on the attached overhead lamp, moving it so the light rests over his chest. "This was from the other one. The Red Hood."

Alfred is very surprised by this. His hands pause in midair as they're about to open the iodine bottle. "Him?"

"Yes..."

"But...but why?" He proceeds to open it and soak some gauze with it, then rubs the gauze around and onto the wound. Bruce groans slightly and breathes through it.

"Because of Harvey... He...he hates me. He despises me for his death, and those of the cops."

"I see..." says Alfred, appearing to understand, preparing the suture and the needle. "So you taking the fall inspired him to wage his own war."

"I think there's more to it than that." Bruce lets out a slight groan as the thread goes through his skin for the first stitch. "I think his goal from the beginning was to get my attention, have me come to him, so he could kill me for those deaths."

"He would have killed you for something you didn't do."

"Well there was no convincing him earlier. He wouldn't have believed Harvey was the one who killed those cops. He idolized him, Alfred. His death brought life to who he is now."

Alfred continues to stitch the wound. "It seems the number of people who detest you keeps growing larger," he replies grimly.

Bruce shakes his head. "How can I redeem myself in the eyes of Gotham for what happened to Harvey without sacrificing the image they remember him by?"

Alfred slowly shakes his head. "I'm not sure I have an answer for that, Master Wayne."

Bruce is silent for a moment. "I'm just going to continue to keep helping this city the best I can."

"That will undoubtedly prove more difficult with the Red Hood after you now. It was bad enough with the criminals and the GCPD on your tail. Hell, you barely escaped the latter tonight, it seems."

"I just need a better way to evade them...," he replies. And just as he says this, he considers it time to pay Mister Fox a visit.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Bruce and Selina

Lucius Fox is at his desk, typing away at his computer. His large office is light brown with a tall wide bookshelf by the desk. His door opens and Bruce Wayne walks in, to which he looks up from his computer screen.

"I heard about your little late night ride with the cops last night, Mister Wayne," he says without resisting the urge to smirk.

Bruce sighs and looks down at the floor rather sheepishly. "Yeah, well...that's exactly why I'm here. Is there any way you could build a couple compartments for the bike to hold some caltrops and...light explosives?"

Fox thoughtfully nods. "Sounds doable." He then pauses for a second and smiles. "I can do one better for you, though," and he nods his head toward the bookshelf, "Come on."

He stands up from his desk and clicks a button from underneath the top. Bruce instantly turns behind him and locks Lucius's door. The bookshelf slowly shifts to the right to reveal an elevator behind. The two men step inside and descend Wayne Tower, exiting into what appears to be a massive military hangar filled with countless storage containers and several displays of prototype weapons, armor, and vehicles.

"Follow me," says Lucius, and Bruce let him take the lead across the floor.

"Your new upper body armor is all set, by the way. You can take it with you on your way out."

"Thanks," says Bruce. "Can't promise I won't ask for a replacement in the future."

"I'd be quite surprised if you didn't. Wouldn't think you were doing your job."

Bruce gives a small laugh. They continue to walk the along the enormous laboratory until around halfway through when they reach a high and wide sliding door. Lucius presses a button on a side panel and the door moves upward. Bruce bends over slightly as the door rises to see what's behind it and his eyes widen a little upon seeing what it is. Sitting idle on the floor is a strange-looking aerial vehicle. It looks more of a military-style helicopter but without a top rotor. It has a tandem cockpit and an arm set on either side, each stocked with a what looks like a small chain gun and jet thruster.

Lucius grins at Bruce's reaction, looking very pleased with it.

"Defense Department project for tight-geometry urban pacification," he explains as the two of them step inside for a better look. "A sort of Apache helicopter and fighter jet hybrid. Rotors are configured to maneuver between buildings without recirculation."

"What's it called?" Bruce asks, still gazing at it.

"Oh it has a long, uninteresting Wayne Enterprises designation. I just took to calling it 'The Bat'." He looks at him at this, the small grin still curled on his face as he waits for his response. Bruce also smiles and looks over his shoulder at Fox. Fox gives a nod.

"Yes, Mister Wayne, it does come in black."

Bruce laughs through his nostrils and shakes his head, turning back to the Bat. "You had this down here the entire time?"

"After the choice you made the night Harvey Dent passed - God rest his soul - I was certain the GCPD would cause you a lot more trouble. So I took it upon myself to fix this baby up, make sure it worked well for you by the time you really needed it."

"Lucius...I have no idea what to say."

"A simple 'thank you' would be just fine."

It's dark out now and distant sirens echo across the streets. Catwoman is seen dashing through them, avoiding the police cars out making their way over. A small duffel bag is slung along on her back Some officers are on foot, on the lookout for her. When she believes herself to be out of their sight, she slips into a nearby alley and waits. The officers approach the alley, stop, and turn into it. Immediately she tackles them and easily brings them to the concrete, knocking them out cold.

She still isn't completely alone, though. Her eyes looking to the side and her head slightly turning, she can feel someone else's presence... Acting quickly she rotates on the spot and swings a punch at the figure she senses behind her. It's Batman. Batman's ready to block the attack, and he does so, but the moment Selina realizes it's him she stops after the first attempt.

She smirks and crosses her arms. "How the hell did you find me here?"

"Need a lift?" he asks her instead of answering.

"I don't know. My mother warned me about getting into cars with strange men."

"I don't have a car," he says and nudges his head behind him in the direction of the alley. "Follow me."

Catwoman narrows her eyes, turns her head back towards the streets where the sirens are getting closer. She turns back to the alley where Bruce is waiting by a corner and simply shrugs. As she comes around the corner, however, she freezes upon seeing what's there.

"Oh..."

A strange-looking helicopter-type vehicle is sitting on the pavement. No top rotor but armed with some sort of machine guns on the front. It's painted all in black and appears to be quite fitting in structure for the one known as the Dark Knight. Selina is in awe of it, though she keeps her face from showing so and simply goes for being mildly impressed. Bruce nods his head to beckon her over.

"Hop in."

She stays put for another second, admiring the Bat, and then walks over. They both climb into the cockpit, Bruce gets in the seat up front and Selina behind.

"So if you're riding this now," Selina says, "can I have your bike?"

Bruce replies without pausing. "You haven't stolen enough money to buy your own?"

She raises her eyebrows at this comment, yet she smirks. "Touché."

Bruce clicks a few switches and the engine of the aerial vehicle starts up with a low roar and rumbling. Another couple clicks and the two of them feel the sensation of being pushed down as the Bat rises off the ground and above the buildings that were hiding it. The vehicle swerves and maneuvers through the city with surprising ease like a large mechanical bird. Bruce pilots them far from the scene of the police sirens and onto the top of a tall building a couple miles away. The cockpit opens and the two them step out of the Bat.

"I appreciate the rescue," says Selina.

Bruce turns to her. "Who were you stealing from this time?"

"Councilman Stines. I'd heard he embezzled taxpayer money to fund some of the major drug manufactures in the city. I went to his suite to empty his bedroom safe while he was away. Turned out he was smarter than I thought and set an alarm on it..."

"Have you ever considered a life other than thieving?"

Selina scoffs. "You're not the first to suggest that to me; my roommate asks the same. She worries about me like that sometimes."

"You seem like you handle yourself well."

"Well thank you."

"But I think you could do better."

She raises an eyebrow. "Like what you do?"

"Is that such a bad idea?"

She smiles a little and shrugs. "It's crossed my mind once or twice, playing that role."

"But..."

"I prefer this lifestyle better. The adrenaline fueled by the fear of getting caught..." She slowly moves closer to him as she says this, Bruce stands still, "and the wave of euphoria when you get away."

She places a hand on his chest. Bruce looks down at it, then back at her face.

"Must be hard to beat."

"Quite. Besides...if I chose to play that type of 'good guy', I wouldn't be able to play cat-and-mouse with you."

Selina then slides her hands to Bruce's cheeks and gently pulls his face toward her for a kiss. Not being able to help himself, Bruce leans in and kisses right back, placing his hands on her waist. He slowly pulls her close after a second or two. It feels nice...for the both of them, though it only goes on for about a minute. With his eyes still closed Bruce feels Selina pull away while keeping her hands on his chest for a brief moment before they slide off. He expects the kiss to continue, but after a few seconds he opens his eyes again to see that she has vanished from the rooftop.

"So that's what that feels like..."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Scattered Chaos

What looks to be a delivery man walks off a brown van and over to the front door of a house, carrying with him a simple brown box package. He rings the doorbell and simply waits a few seconds before a man appearing to be in his mid-forties with salt-and-pepper hair answers and steps out.

"Mister Renswick?"

Renswick nods, "Yeah..." He doesn't appear to be surprised to see this delivery person yet still seems rather puzzled as to why he is receiving this package.

The delivery person hands him a clipboard with a pen attached. "Sign here."

Renswick does so.

"And you are informed of what's inside?"

Renswick nods and the delivery person then says, "Open it for me, please, to confirm the contents."

The man does so, tearing off the tape holding the top flaps of the box in place. "Who is this from?"

"Call them a concerned third party. They would very much appreciate your participation."

Keeping the box held up Renswick carefully pulls out something covered in bubble wrap. It's a nine millimeter handgun. Attached to the bubble wrap is a small handwritten note, simply stating "It's untraceable". Renswick's brows furrow upon reading with a look as though he's wondering why on earth someone would send him such a thing.

"Participation in what exactly?"

"You'll be sent a message in a few short days," is the only answer he gives, which he follows up with, "You have a good day, Mister Renswick. Take care." And he turns back to his vehicle and drives away, leaving Renswick on his porch still looking unsure of himself.

A young brunette woman walks into the kitchen of her apartment and sets her identical package on her dining table. The box has been opened already and she takes out the bubble-wrapped handgun, staring at it with slight confusion.

In his house a dark-skinned man unwraps the plastic from around his new handgun.

A blonde woman sets her new package down on her coffee table and peels off the handwritten note attached. It reads "It's untraceable".

Late at night inside the kitchen of a house, a group of people in their undergarments and wearing surgical masks are packaging and assembling supplies of drugs. Only the ceiling light is on and the windows are shut, the blinds closed. The substance they're working with is a brown powder and some of them measure the product while others seal the divided amounts in small plastic bags.

In the living room the front door opens very slowly. Through it comes a masked figure with gloves on their hands and carrying a nine millimeter. He sneaks through the room, hugging the wall so not to be seen when he approaches the kitchen. Then turns sharp around the corner and goes for a young man close to him, firing once in his leg. He cries out and crumples to the floor. Some young women working with the drugs scream and rush outside via the back door while the others simply back away with their hands up, shaking. A couple young men reach for their guns but the masked figure fires before they get their chance to retaliate, crippling them and bringing them to the floor as well. One of them manages to grab hold of his gun and aims at the masked figure, but he gets a bullet to the chest before he can pull the trigger. He backs up, slams against the cabinets behind him and slides down with a thud.

The whole encounter is over before those still alive can think "who the hell?". The room now filling up with moaning in pain as the masked figure walks out and leaves.

On a bed is a man and a woman, both seem to be in their late thirties, early forties. They're kissing passionately. Through the doorway steps in another woman, about the same age as the other two. A look of anger is carved on her face as she stares at the two of them. They both jump at the sight of her, then turn frightened at the sight of what she holds in one of her hands. "Jesus!" says the male. He holds up a hand and his voice shakes when he speaks. "Baby... Baby, listen...please... L-let me explain..."

But the woman in the doorway just shakes her head. "I knew it..." Her eyes turning glassy. Without hesitation she lifts the nine millimeter and pulls back on the trigger.

The man falls back on the headboard with choppy breath as the woman beside him screams and throws her shaking arms up over her head, afraid she'll be next. But the woman at the door has already left, leaving the other uttering bursts of screams.

A young man in a blue-green hoodie walks right over to the counter of a convenience store and pulls out a gun. "Give me everything in the register. Let's go."

The clerk raises his hands up to his shoulders and slowly makes to open the cash register in front of him. It pops open and the hooded robber is about to reach over the counter when he hears a click from behind. An slightly older man is holding up his own gun.

"Get out of here," he says, "and I won't call the cops on you."

The hooded one pauses for a moment, then slowly lowers his gun and makes to walk away. He was only a few steps to the entrance doors when he quickly pivots and raises his weapon once more-

BANG! BANG!

He crumples to the floor with a couple bullet holes. The older man holding his gun lowers it and puts it away.

"...multiple reports of shootings have popped up within just the past couple of weeks and they appear to keep happening. These shootings are seemingly random and appear to be unrelated with the exception of the weapon used in each crime. Those who have been apprehended and taken into police custody each confessed to have received a nine-millimeter handgun from an unknown sender. Initial suspicion rested on the ruthless vigilante of current viral popularity, 'The Red Hood'. However police have been quick to dismiss his involvement in any of the recent shootings. But as to who is responsible, authorities still do not have any leads..."

Bruce is on his phone, sitting on the desk in his office as he watches this.

"This is most unusual," says Alfred through the speaker.

"It is... But someone has gone through a lot of trouble to get those weapons to those particular civilians. We just need to find out who and why."

"From what I could gather on those who were arrested, they were already licensed owners. And their residence is in some of the city's more crime-infested neighborhoods."

Bruce frowns at the television. "Who could be able to pull this off?"

"Perhaps the Hood is evolving his technique? Getting rid of criminals in a way that he feels keeps his hands...well, I would say 'clean', but...less filthy than they are now."

But Bruce doesn't look too sure of this possibility. "No... This isn't him, Alfred. The person who spoke to me that night, he isn't someone who would carelessly give away those weapons and risk innocent people getting killed. There's a new party at play here."

"Never?" asks Ramirez to the woman she's questioning.

Sitting across from her at the table in the interrogation room, a woman with red hair, is one of the perpetrators the GCPD apprehended, caught using one of the untraceable handguns. She shakes her head back and forth upon being asked, as though she repeated this once or twice.

"No, I've never seen that person before."

"Tell me again what they said to you."

The woman sighs. "That whoever they work for would appreciate my help."

"And they didn't specify what that was?"

She shakes her head again. "No, just that I would know soon." And shrugs. "I don't know how."

Ramirez looks down at the notepad in front of her and taps her pen before nodding and tilts her head back up. "Okay. Fair enough, Miss Walker. You're free to go. The street camera caught you acting in self-defense. You're one of the very lucky ones."

Walker nods and stands up from her seat. "Thank you."

"Unfortunately we're going to need to withhold you're firearm for further examination. But we will return it once we're finished."

Walker pauses at the table for a second, but then nods again. "I understand."

"Thank you."

Walker steps out of the interrogation room, followed by Ramirez who opens the door to the adjacent room and closes it. Gordon is staring past the two-way mirror, frowning.

"Statement mirrors exactly what the rest of them said," she says to him. "I don't know, though, I doubt it's Red." suggests Ramirez, and Gordon shakes his head in agreement.

"I don't think it is, either. Doesn't seem like the type, or his style. I think he prefers to be up close and personal with his victims. He wouldn't leave that to random people." He looks at her as he says this. "Besides, I don't think there's any way he could have known all those particular citizens would be licensed firearm owners."

"And all the major mob bosses are in Blackgate, so..."

"Judging by what Walker and the rest of them all said, we should be ready to expect something else very soon."

"There's no way for us to know what it could possibly be."

"And that's what I hate most... All these shootings, people acting as their own vigilante, victims less-than deserving of it winding up hospitalized or dead... I hate to imagine what could be next."

Blackgate Penitentiary is a massive structure consisting mostly of white brick and iron bars. Some of Gotham's most notorious as well as hundreds of other criminal individuals are incarcerated within its walls. Inside, one of the guards strides down a hallway, making his way toward the control room at the end. His expression appears to be focused as he approaches the door, slightly frowning. From a jacket pocket he pulls out a card and slides it through the card reader on the panel beside the door. There's a click and he pushes the door open.

A fellow guard sits by a large station of buttons, switches, and television screens showing visuals from various cameras in the building. The guard wheels around in the chair and gazes up at his coworker with a rather curious look.

"What's going on, Dave?" he asks shortly before the guard called Dave knocks him out cold with a couple quick hard punches to his face. He lays him down beside the control station and seats himself, then holds up a walkie to his mouth.

"All right, everyone ready?" he asks in a rather gruff voice.

"Ready," answers a static male voice. "All the guards on every floor are taken care of. Charges are primed and set."

"Let's let 'em loose..." He reaches over to a particular switch on the board and twists it with a click. A short buzzing alarm sounds and every cell on the floor overlooked by the control room unlocks and slides open. Every prisoner slowly steps out looking confused, some of them excepting guards to storm in any second to wail on them to get back inside. None show up.

With a couple more clicks from neighboring switches, the rest of the cell doors on the remaining floors of the prison slide themselves open as well.

A few short seconds later...the explosions occur, over at the main entrance the double doors have been blasted away. The prisoners by the control room jump in their orange garb, unnerved. Until seconds later when echoes of neighboring inmates from next door and all around the prison cheer wildly and they, too, follow suit, thrusting their arms triumphantly into the air.

By the blown-off entrance, two guards with some body armor strapped on stand by while the prisoners swarm to rush out of the building, cheering and shouting jovially as they go. They pool out onto the street only to be greeted by police sirens and flashing red-and-blue lights mere seconds later. The cars screech to a halt and form a semi-circle around the haphazard entrance. Instantly the prisoners scatter, some rushing in the opposite direction, others making to run straight through in-between the vehicles. Without hesitation the cops jump out, guns aiming dead ahead at the inmates, appearing ready to fire. They shout various pitches of "Don't move!" and "Freeze!" and "On the ground!" and so on. A few of the inmates actually obey, giving up on the spot, supposedly not wanting any trouble. However, just a couple quick seconds after all this occurs...

Half the officers turn on their respective partners, shouting at them to get down before they simply subdue them by force. The inmates are stunned, but it isn't long until some of them cheer and aid the rogue officers in taking down the real ones. But the rogue ones make sure they don't kill the real cops. Once they're beaten, they simply cuff them and lock them in the cars they arrived in. The fake officers then allow the prisoners to run free from Blackgate.

At the GCPD headquarters building, vehicles fly out of their parking spaces and squeal out onto the city streets, lights furiously flashing and sirens blaring. Inside men and women are scrambling, including Ramirez and Gordon.

"We need to get a team down to take care of those rogue cops ASAP," says Ramirez.

"Never mind that now, Lieutenant, we need to fence in the inmates. I want road blocks set up at a three mile radius around the prison and search parties to track them inside wherever they're scattered. Go! Get moving!"

Ramirez does so while Gordon makes for his office. A news broadcast of the breakout is being shown on several television screens. One of the anchors chats away, repeating the details of what happened just minutes ago. And then suddenly it cuts to the Gotham City News logo on a grey-blue screen with a distorted voice speaking a second later. Everyone on the floor, including Gordon freeze and turn their attention to the speaker.

"Citizens of Gotham, I ask that you give us your undivided attention..."

At a local bar somewhere downtown, everyone's attention is also on the television screens. A man at the bar top says "Turn that up!", to which the bartender does so everyone can understand what the disembodied voice on screen is saying.

"You know how corrupt your city has become. Mobsters and gangs fighting for control of the city and its underworld. People in masks running around playing hero or villain. Your own law enforcement, judges, and politicians taking bribes from criminals for a piece of what they have; money, drugs, weapons, et cetera."

The voice noticeably sounds English, despite the distortion to remain anonymous, yet everyone listening pays no mind to this detail whatsoever.

"More than enough of this corruption has infected this once-great city, and more than enough innocent lives have been lost because of it. All because of ignorance, greed, lust for power, and on and on..."

In one of the busier squares of the city, the same broadcast is being playing on a giant monitor attached high on one of the skyscrapers. Every pedestrian has stopped to watch. Some have even been curious enough to pull over their vehicles to the side of the road just to join everyone else, causing the square to nearly fill up.

"No more...," the voice continues, "the corrupt and criminal individuals shall run your city no longer. Now we wish to place its future in your hands, to take it back.

"A select number of you have received something from us, and already it seems many have taken advantage of this gift and created your own form of justice. This is what we were hoping for, and we hope more of you will join us in today's special event..."

Bruce and Alfred stare on and listen intently in the bat cave on the computer station.

"As you may have just heard seconds ago, Blackgate Penitentiary has just had a breakout. Every inmate housed within its walls are scrambling outdoors as we speak. This was our doing, but you can finally stop them once and for all. All the murderers, rapists, gangsters, mob bosses, molesters, they are now vulnerable and you have been given the power to deliver the justice they should have been given.

"Because nothing, no one should stand in the way of true justice."

Bruce's eyes widen a little at the last sentence of the broadcast as the screen then turns to static for a few seconds before Alfred shuts it off. The butler turns to him and shows concern upon seeing his face.

"What is it, Master Wayne?"

Bruce shakes his head. "Those last few words...I've heard them before. I heard them from...no... That's not possible..."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: ...At All Costs

Bruce presses a button on the computer station to activate the glass display case holding his current Bat Suit inside. The glass case rises from the the metal floor just a few feet away from the computer desk and he walks towards it, Alfred following him.

"Might I ask how to you intend on subduing the entirety of Blackgate's prisoners?"

"I'm gonna give Selina a call," Bruce answers right away.

"Miss Kyle? And how exactly will she...?" And then Alfred realizes and nods his head. "She's the Catwoman."

Bruce nods. "She is." He opens the display case and removes the lower body and boots.

"Well. No wonder you two hit it off. And you believe she'll want to help you?"

"I believe if I ask her, she will, yes."

"I must say I'm a bit surprised you're not choosing to go at this alone."

Bruce removes his suit jacket, button up shirt, trousers, and shoes and slips on the lower half of the body armor and the large boots. "Well this is where I take back my statement of Batman having no limits."

"I'm pleased to hear that, sir. What of the Red Hood?"

"I won't have time to stop him from shooting the inmates. But somehow I doubt he'll recklessly kill any he can. He didn't kill all of those mobsters at the construction site; he was able to restrain himself. All I can hope is that he doesn't try to stop me again." He slips on the torso of the Bat Suit and removes the cowl from the case.

"Very good, sir. But what about Ra's al Ghul?"

Bruce pauses, holding the cowl and staring at it for a moment. Then he shakes his head.

"I don't know..."

"All this time he had been alive and chooses now to attack Gotham again?"

"He must have been biding his time. The League had to have known about me taking the blame for Harvey and hoped I would eventually give up." He shrugs. "Sorry to disappoint them."

'What will you do?"

"I won't kill him. But I need to stop him...somehow." And he slips the cowl on over his head.

"I would certainly like to know how he survived that crash."

"I'll be sure to ask him when I find him," Bruce says as he picks up his phone from the computer desk and dials.

Jackson is assembling his gear and some weaponry in his apartment. He slips on his body armor and attaches some extra magazine clips for his handguns to his belt and harness. He then disassembles the sniper rifle he used to take out the school shooter and attaches it to the back of the harness. His combat boots slide onto his feet followed by his tactical gloves, and then his bike helmet. The black cover is clipped on to hide its iconic red look until he gets closer to the action currently ensuing. On his television screen in the living room is a live broadcast from high above the city's streets. Some men in orange jumpsuits are being chased by GCPD officers, but Jackson pays no attention to this; he's seen more than enough for him to want to take action. He clips on a couple of flash-bangs to his armor for good measure before throwing over a brown leather jacket and making his way outside his apartment building.

There his bike sits in the parking lot. He straddles himself on, turns on the ignition, kicks off the stand and zooms right out of the lot, intending to make a beeline straight for the perimeter.

Along the streets roughly a mile from the prison are two orange-clad men - one bald, the other with messy dark brown and scraggly facial hair - pushing their legs to keep running as they further distance themselves from Blackgate. They look behind and all around for signs of cops on foot. Just a few seconds later, sirens are heard out in the distance, fast approaching. Without thinking, the two of them scurry themselves into the nearest alleyway and stay put as the sirens gets closer and closer. After a few more seconds pass, two police vehicles fly right on past them, possibly on the search for inmates sighted close by. The two prisoners exit the alleyway and, looking to see where the cars are headed, choose to move on away from that direction.

Underneath the bridge where they first met, not too far outside from the edge of the perimeter, Catwoman is leaning with her back against the stone wall. She's looking around, wondering when the Batman will show, though she's unsure how long she'll bother to wait for him. It doesn't seem to have been long at all, however, as what sounds like some sort of sports bike makes its way in her direction. She turns to her right and seconds later the Batman shows up, rolling on an unusual looking motorcycle which she has seen on the news via camera footage. Batman breaks and kills the engine before stepping off.

"I was worried you wouldn't show," he says to her.

Selina pushes off the wall and walks over. "I wasn't sure I wanted to at first. But I figured if you're asking for my help, then this must be very important to you."

"I care about Gotham, despite how corrupt it's become. It isn't beyond saving."

Selina sighs and shakes her head a little. "Are you so sure about that?"

"Yes," Bruce replies without pausing. He gives one nod. "I know it isn't."

"Who the hell is even causing all this?"

Bruce hesitates for brief moment, unsure how to answer this. "That's...asking for a hard-to-believe explanation that I don't have time to give. And if you're gonna help me then we need to head to the perimeter as soon as we can."

Selina simply stares at him for a couple seconds, appearing a bit conflicted. Then she steps closer and closes the gap between them.

"I have a better idea... How about you come with me, instead?" She places her palms on his chest. "If this whole thing that's happening is targeting Blackgate's prisoners, let the people and the police take care of them, whether they kill them or they get arrested again. They've had their chance, probably more than one, and they would just do the same thing if they were released anyway. Plus they're unarmed, why should we get involved? We can leave here and find some place better where we won't have to worry about all this."

Bruce's hands go to her arms and stay there while she says all this. But he slowly shakes his head. "I can't do that. I want nothing more than to not worry about this city. But I won't abandon the good people that still live here."

Selina sighs again and slides her hands off his chest, shrugging. "Can't blame a girl for trying." She gives a tiny sad smile.

Bruce lifts his wrist and taps a couple buttons on his gauntlet.

"What are you doing?" Selina asks.

"Calling my ride."

"You're not taking the bike?"

"I'm giving you the bike."

This widens Selina's eyes with genuine surprise, a bigger smile curling her lips. "Really? Well, that's all you had to say when you called."

The tiniest of smirks appears on Bruce's mouth. A few seconds later, the low rumbling growl of the Bat sounds above them and the vehicle swoops in shortly after, gently settling itself down on the pavement. Selina walks past Bruce and to the Batpod, immediately straddling herself on, the smile still on her face.

"Let me give you a little crash course," says Bruce.

"Oh I know how to drive a bike."

"This one's a little different," he says, leaning over to indicate the steering handles. "You steer less with your hands and more with your shoulders." Then he points at the switches on the handle bars. "Use these to toggle between the front cannons, machine guns, and grappling hooks."

"Ooh..." Selina's eyes ogle all over the bike.

"The wheels rotate sideways when you need to make any quick or sharp turns, so don't be alarmed when that happens."

She nods. "Got it."

"Good..." There's slight hesitation before the next few words he says. "Thank you. Thank you for..." He trails off, but of course Selina understands. She smiles a little.

"You're welcome."

Bruce turns toward the Bat and is about to head over when Selina says "Hey" and grabs his arm. He turns as she pulls him close while still on the bike, places a hand on his cheek and plants a kiss without waiting, but he kisses right back. After a couple seconds, though, she pulls away.

"We still need to plan our first date after this," she says to him. "So you better stay safe..."

Another small smile from Bruce. "You too."

He finally makes his way to the Bat as Selina turns on the ignition to the Batpod. She shoots off out of the shadow of the bridge while the Bat rises and flies in the direction of the perimeter.

On the subway, being quiet and keeping to himself, a man appearing to be in his mid-thirties sits hunched over with his arms on his knees. He's looking past the floor, his expression rather stone-faced. In one of his hands is a handgun appearing similar to the ones wielded by some of the various citizens who received them by the mysterious party.

The train stops and he stands himself up, tucking the gun in the back of his jeans and covering it with his shirt. Climbing up the steps of the terminal exit he looks around, rotating on the spot. Plenty of traffic passing by but no sign of any inmates or police, no fences blocking off the road. He should be inside the perimeter used to keep in the prisoners; subway transportation hasn't yet been advised to prohibit passengers from exiting to the terminals within the perimeter.

He can hear sirens around all around him, even a couple gunshots echoing off the buildings. He turns to the closest alley to him and chooses to go that way, making sure no police officers are within sight before slipping out his handgun, cocking it, and stepping inside. It's empty. He walks out, enters another alleyway. Also empty. He crosses the street and into a third one. Then he hears a couple voices and almost instantly spots two men in orange jumpsuits. One of them rather lanky, blonde, and tattoos on his neck and hands. The other was shorter with a shaved head and thick facial hair. They both notice him as he approaches, the shorter one steps forward.

"Hey, screw off if you know what's good for you."

"Check it, he's got a gun...," says the blonde one.

The bald one notices this, too, and takes another step closer. "Yo, give that here!"

But the man holding silently refuses, not moving.

"Come on, let's take it from him!" the bald one says to the blonde. They both approach him but only make it a couple steps before he holds up the pistol and they stop.

"You ain't gonna shoot us," the blonde one says, "just give it."

The bald one, however, chooses not to wait and runs to him. The man simply reacts and pulls the trigger. A look of shock strikes the inmates face, he gazes up at him and then falls to his knees, breathing in heavy choppy breaths. He face-plants on the ground seconds later. The blonde inmate holds up his hands for moment and then bolts in the opposite direction. The man fires again and the prisoner stumbles over, also falling face first, but he doesn't get up. The man lowers the gun, holsters it back in his jeans and exits the alleyway.

The young woman running through the streets spots one inmate running from two cops. She pauses for a moment, her breathing slightly heightened, then pushes herself to move forward and chase after him. She pumps her legs faster, wanting to reach the prisoner before the cops do, even though they have a head start..

"Stop running!" one of them shouts.

The inmate courageously (or perhaps merely fueled by fear and adrenaline) crosses the heavy traffic in the hopes of losing them both. She, too, crosses over, horns blare at her as she does so, but otherwise has no trouble. She's fallen behind a little and so pumps her legs and body harder.

"Stop running and get down on the ground!" the police shout again "Now!"

The inmate then unexpectedly turns on the spot and rushes toward the officers. He seems certain they won't shoot him as he's unarmed. They don't. He throws a few punches, disorients one the cops, bringing him down onto the sidewalk, and then goes after the other. This gives her a chance to catch up. Just a few more feet to cover...

She stops. She holds up the gun, taking aim and making sure not to hit the officer. And when she feels she has a clean shot...

BANG!

The inmate stops, frozen in place for a fraction of a second before he falls over. Still alive, it seems, judging by the slight shaking, but most certainly critically wounded. The cop turn to see who fired the shot, his partner just getting back on his feet, and together they run straight for her. But she surrenders immediately, slowly setting the gun down, raising her hands right before they're brought back down hard and behind her back.

Jackson is crouched down in an alleyway, unclipping the black cover of his helmet and then removing his jacket, setting them both aside behind a dumpster. He jogs over to his bike and then tears out of the alley. The bike zooms down the street, weaving through the traffic with effortless ease. Not too far behind him Jackson has already passed the border, the police patrolling it have already given up on chasing him. He's ready to take down any prisoners he sees; kill them, if necessary.

From a distance he can see two cops being beaten on by two inmates. He doesn't hesitate. He slows down just a little, just enough to give himself a good aim. He unholsters one of his trusty handguns and swerves over to the side of the road on his right. Raising the gun high he fires a couple quick shots in the air to disperse the bystanders and give him a clear line of sight at the inmates and the cops. With one hand maneuvering the bike he quickly takes aim at one of the inmates and shoots. He falls over, startling his partner whose eyes dart in the direction of the gunshot. BANG BANG! He goes down too.

Jackson flies by the police officers, not bothering to wait for any words of thanks. He looks this way and that, searching for more prisoners he can subdue without incurring much trouble from the police. His head then snaps to his left; flashing lights down the street. He slows his bike a little, using his foot to help rotate it and launches in that direction. The flashing lights are from the back of a cop car and he swerves through civilian vehicles to catch up with it. A few seconds later he realizes there's a high-speed chase. He speeds past the police vehicle and makes to catch up with the one they're chasing after, which is very easy to spot. The driver's side window is bashed in and he can see three inmates inside. Jackson pulls out a handgun and fires at the tires. The two of them blow and the car slides and swerves dangerously before screeching to a stop. Immediately the prisoners hop out of the car and make to break out of the scene on foot, but not before Jackson stops as well right in front of them. He slides off his bike and rushes head on at them all. He sweeps a kick underneath one of them, tripping them over, and then hooks the next one closest to him. The third prisoner swings at him but he ducks under it and sidesteps away from their stolen car. The one he tripped over gets back up and goes at him but he grabs his arm and throws two punches at his stomach, shoves him aside, hooks the second one hard across the cheek, and then tornado-kicks the third and sends him thrown back against the car. He lands another punch on his face for good measure and all three of them are down just as the police vehicle approaches and comes to a stop. Without pausing, Jackson climbs back onto his bike before any of the cops that step out whip out their guns and shout at him to not move and place his hands in the air. He rolls past them as if they aren't there and continues on, hellbent on finding more trouble he can stop.

A group of orange jumpsuits have stationed themselves in the middle of the street, holding a few civilians hostage at gunpoint. The police surrounding them have their guns fixed dead ahead at them, ready to fire if necessary. One of them holds a megaphone and is nearly shouting at them all.

"Put your weapons down! Now!"

"We're all innocent here!" one of the inmates shouts back. "We all want retrials!"

"Let the hostages go and we can figure something out!"

At this moment what sounds like a motorcycle fast approaches the scene. The inmates and the surrounding police and civilians turn their focus to the source of the noise. Mounted on what is clearly Batman's custom motorbike is the leather-clad thief from the news dubbed "the Catwoman". As she rolls in, the civilians observing the scene move out of her way. She slows to a stop, slides off the bike, and immediately bounds herself over the police to get to the prisoners. "Sorry to interrupt. 'Scuse me!"

She detaches her whip from her belt and unrolls it. "Mind if I cut in?" she says to them, and without hesitation proceeds to crack her whip in multiple directions, being very careful not to harm any of the hostages. The ones carrying the guns aim at her but she's much too agile for them, but they're also afraid to get anywhere near the end of her whip. With just a few flicks of her wrist, Catwoman manages to subdue a third of the prisoners as they go down with many yelps of pain. Their guns clatter on the ground as they cradle an arm or leg or hold their side. As they become incapacitated, the police quickly step in and cuff them while the rest of the inmates attempt to fend of the Cat. But she fights back with acrobatic ease, using a lot of high kicks, twirl kicks, a few sweep kicks, swinging very few punches. She even leaps and scissor kicks one of the inmates, throwing them to the ground.

Once it's all over she notices the cops have their weapons pointing at her now. She slowly raises her hands, whip still unrolled, only to smirk and shrug.

"That doesn't look like a 'thank you'... Sorry, but I have some place I need to be. Talk later, though?"

And she rushes at one of them, pushes herself off from his shoulders and leaps over him. Some of them reach and make to grab at her but she's too quick and is able to reach the Batpod, which she revs to life. She notices none of them attempt to go after her. They surely don't wish to pick a fight after witnessing what she did to the inmates. She smirks and says "You're welcome," and then spins the bike around, revs up the engine and drives off.

The Bat swoops and glides almost lazily above Gotham's streets. Below the low-rumbling aerial vehicle are a small band of orange-clad prisoners, running furiously from him and the flashing police lights not too far behind them. Of course even with them pumping their legs as hard as they can, they certainly aren't able to outrun Batman.

Bruce flies past them, presses a button on the Bat's control panel and a couple cylindrical canisters drop form the bottom and instantly emit a thick grey smoke. He times this just right and the inmates run right into the smoke before they can stop themselves. Right away they start coughing violently, bending over and then collapsing to their knees, coughing and coughing. By the time the officers pull up to the smokescreen, it clears up and reveals all the inmates on the pavement struggling to catch fresh air. The officers step out and aim their weapons at them. The prisoners hold their arms up without hesitation - or at least attempt to as their bodies continue to shake with each heaving cough.

Batman flies on, rising high above the streets for better surveillance below. He witnesses more police rounding up prisoners. Father away he spots another small group running hard, looking behind with panicked expressions. Seconds later he catches the Red Hood flying by on his motorcycle, chasing after them. Bruce frowns, wanting to go after him and use the Bat to intercept and stop him. But he shakes his head. No...he'll leave him be and stay out of his way and, hopefully, the Hood will do the same for him. Bruce believes he won't kill if he doesn't have to...whatever that means to him. But he has no time to consider what the vigilante's code is.

He tilts the steering controls to his right and moves on, choosing to check elsewhere. It's not far before he finds a car chase. The vehicle is maneuvering dangerously at high speed while flashing red-and-blue lights follow close behind. Batman steers and hovers the Bat right over the scene, then flies past them as he did with the inmates on foot, moving further ahead this time. He spins the Bat around to face the speeding car, toggles a switch on the controls and then pushes a trigger on the steering handle. Machine gun fire blasts out of the ends of the Bat's arms. Batman fires them in bursts and aims low, not quite going for the car, just enough to stop the prisoners. The desired effect is achieved; the car instantly breaks, screeching as it does, and swerves from side to side before finally coming to a stop. The Bat rises and flies past just as the police surround the prisoners.

Batman places a finger to his cowl where his ear would be. "Selina, North Langdon and Milton are under control. How have you been doing?"

Catwoman's voice answers on the other end. "Clinton block is safe now, same with 9th and Olsen."

"That includes the other areas we covered. That should be enough. Plus...the Hood has been taking care of things on his own."

"Figured the new guy wouldn't resist the haphazard playground. He must be having fun."

Batman gives one nod. "You and the police should be able to handle the rest of the scattered inmates. I've got to go."

"Wait, where? What are you talking about?"

"I'm going to stop the man who caused all this."

"Well if you know where he is, tell me! I'll help you."

Bruce automatically shakes his head before she even finishes. "This isn't your fight. I'm responsible for him returning and I need to stop him from terrorizing Gotham for good."

"Bruce, don't be ridiculous! This is my city, too. I want to see it live another day as much as you do. And you I'm sure you're still healing from that scratch I gave you a few nights ago." Bruce snorts through his nostrils at this and dips his head for a brief second. "You asked for my help, so let me help you...please."

He inhales deeply, allowing himself only a couple seconds to think hard about his decision. "Meet me at Grant Ave, I'll give you a lift to the Gotham City News Tower."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: The Legend Continues

Jackson punches an inmate on the stomach a couple times before shoving him aside with a few of his buddies, now unconscious on the pavement. Police sirens sound in the distance as they have for the past hour or so, as well as ambulance sirens.

A low rumbling noise comes from above and he looks up. A strange black aerial vehicle swoops by, rising above the buildings. Jackson stares at it long after it's gone from his line of sight. There's no question to him Batman pilots that thing. He has seen it here and there in passing while he took care of his own business.

Did the Batman kill any more cops? But then why on earth would we be helping out the Blackgate prisoners? Why bother flying through the perimeter in the first place with the police still after him? These questions buzz in his mind while his gaze continues to go to the sky for another moment or two.

He has seen that black vehicle being chased by a couple GCPD helicopters earlier in attempt to stop him, to take him down. But the shots they fired on it were of no use, to Jackson's disappointment. However this brings him back to wondering why...

Finally he breaks his self-puzzling and goes to his bike, firing up the engine and makes in the direction of the Batman.

Gotham City News Tower stands far from the perimeter, but relatively close enough to observe from afar. GCPD helicopters can be see floating above what is evidently still chaos down below. Sirens and gunfire are just faintly heard from the great distance. On the roof of the tower, a tall man in a black suit outfit is watching with a frown, his hands resting on a black cane. He has short brown hair and a small goatee with touches of grey on it.

"His resilience knows no boundary...," he mutters to himself, staring at the black aerial vehicle that nows appears to be making its way toward the tower; toward him. He turns to one of his four men around him, all of them also clad in black. "Rev up the engine. It's time to leave."

Behind them all is a black helicopter which they evidently have landed atop the roof of the GCN building. They all make their way towards it as the aerial vehicle nears closer and closer to the tower. The pilot hurries into the cockpit and starts up the engine, the rotor slowly turning and gaining speed. The remaining four step into the vehicle and the chopper lifts slightly off the roof just as the blades are quickly destroyed by heavy artillery fire. The chopper staggers and falls hard back on the rooftop, shifting slightly yet remaining upright as what's left of the rotor slows to a grinding stop.

The Batman's aerial vehicle closes in and slows to a stop before landing on the roof by the edge, several yards from them. The man in the small goatee steps out, as does the Batman from his vehicle along with an apparent associate, dressed in leather with cat ears on her cowl. The man isn't necessarily frowning, though his cane is clenched tightly in his fist beside him. No, the look on his face is more of...disappointment, perhaps? He certainly doesn't appear to be surprised or angry to have been stopped by the Batman. His men come to his side with guns raised as they approach the Dark Knight and his friend, and then all of them stop just a few feet from each other.

"Once again I admire your determination, my old pupil," says the man with the cane. "Even with everyone against you."

"I watched you die...," says the Batman.

The man smirks. "I told you I was immortal... That accident certainly didn't leave me without a few scratches, but I suppose I ought to thank you for being so confident of my chance for survival. I saw it as sign that I was meant to finally see through our great task."

"Not while I'm still standing, Ra's."

Ra's al Ghul gives a single nod, frowning. "So it would seem..."

Jackson slows his bike to a stop a couple hundred feet from the main entrance to GCN Tower. He can see a few policemen standing guard just outside their vehicles, though something to him felt off. Above him, Batman's aerial vehicle has just reached the rooftop. He wants to be up there to confront him, but...

Why are those cops just sitting there? Why aren't they up there?

This brings him to guess that, somehow, those aren't real GCPD.

How to get up to that rooftop...

He turns to his head to the building beside and him and rolls his bike in that direction.

"This is the last time you terrorize this city," says Bruce.

"The only way that's going to happen, Bruce, is if you kill me. And you and I both know that will never happen."

Bruce shakes his head. "I won't have to."

"So then what, you'll have me locked up? Because you're foolish if you think I would stay that way."

Catwoman chimes in. "Then I'll kill you instead. Would that be okay?"

"Selina...," says Bruce.

A small laugh and smirk from Ra's. "I already like your friend, Bruce. You should listen to her. I'm surprised you have allies at all from last I heard about you."

"If you're done with the mini monologue," says Selina, unfurling her whip, "I'd like to get this over with. I have a date I want to plan."

"...Fair enough." Ra's takes a few steps back and his men aim their guns, two on Bruce, two on Selina. Bruce raises one of his gauntlets and taps a button. A terrible high-pitched screeching sound resonates from it and Ra's associates flinch and cringe, gritting their teeth and groaning at the sound, slapping their hands to their ears. Selina raises her arm and thrusts it a few different ways while flicking her wrist in several directions and her whip cracks across the arms and hands holding the guns. They clatter to the ground and Bruce presses the button again to silence the screeching.

"You weren't kidding about the noise," Selina says to him.

"Nope," he simply says, and the two of them go at the suited men without pause. They recover from the noise quickly, though, and fight back. Throwing kicks and punches, dodging some that aren't theirs. These are the same moves and techniques Bruce became familiar with during his training to be in league with them. But they aim to kill their enemies, which is why he is in opposition with them now. Yet he is able to go toe to toe with them with little trouble.

Despite these henchmen being a few steps above the average thug she has put down thus far, Selina is able to hold her own as well; twirl-kicking, vaulting over them, cracking her whip. Bruce even allows her to vault over him to get to a man behind him and take him down with a scissor kick. Eventually she opens her claws and gives a few cat scratches to Ra's men. Bruce tussles with them in his own way; punching, counterpunching, a few side-kicks, using the fin blades on his gauntlets to his advantage. He also throws his cape in the faces of a two henchmen as a small but effective enough distraction so he can spin-kick one of them and hook the other across the cheek.

The two of them fluidly bring a swift end to the brawl in just a few short minutes.

"I still think you should have let me kill them," said Selina as she retracted her claws back into her gloves, "but that's simply my opinion."

BANG BANG!

Selina gasps, shock springing from her face. Her hand flies to her chest as she stumbles backward onto the concrete.

"NO!" Bruce shouts and crouches down to lift her up, but... "Don't!" comes al Ghul's voice. Bruce turns to see him aiming a gun at him.

"If you want something done right...," he says.

Lightning fast, Bruce whips out a batarang and shoots it in his direction only for Ra's to deflect it with his cane. Bruce then rushes at him with a raging yell. He knocks the gun hard out of his hand and then goes for a side-kick to his chest, which Ra's stops by grabbing his foot with both hands. He shoves Bruce backward and he falls onto the concrete, giving him the opportunity to tug on the end of his cane and unsheathe a sword from the inside. Bruce gets back up and swings a wild hook which Ra's blocks with the sword. Ra's swings horizontally and Bruce ducks under, following it up with a uppercut and a jab. The uppercut he dodges and then steps to the side when the jab comes. He swings downward and Bruce blocks the blow with his gauntlet. Another couple swings of the sword are also blocked. It appears Ra's is fueled by anger just as much as his old pupil in this fight. After another block, Bruce fires a front kick and shoves Ra's back. He then throws more punches at him. A couple are knocked away until he lands a blow to his side. Ra's grunts and Bruce fires a jab at his face which connects and stumbles him back, but only a little. More swings from his sword until, finally, Bruce grabs the hand holding it, twists the wrist, and hammers on the forearm to knock it out of his grip. It clatters to the ground and he kicks it away. Ra's hooks his fist to Bruce's face and does a spin kick. Bruce falls back and uses the momentum of the fall to the ground to push himself right back up.

"Even if you did choose to kill me, Bruce," Ra's says as Bruce regains his footing, "Ra's al Ghul shall live on. The League of Shadows will never stop reaching to achieve its duty to bring balance to civilization, and this includes bringing death to your retched city."

This brings Bruce to give another yell as he runs at him and they continue on. They both land more blows to each other's bodies as well as dodging and blocking, neither one wanting to let up. The two of them are in equal measure. And of course they should be, Bruce being his best student. The only other person to be able compete with him as well as his old teacher is the Red Hood. If ever the two of them were to tag team against the Batman, Bruce would surely be done for.

Ra's throws a roundhouse kick Bruce's way and Bruce holds up his forearm just in time to block it. Ra's sweeps a kick low and Bruce jumps over it, then goes for a kick of his own. Ra's knocks it away, makes for a hook to his face, Bruce blocks it but then Ra's quickly uppercuts his stomach once, twice, three times, elbows his chest, jabs his face square on the nose, and then gives a powerful front kick to his chest whereupon Bruce stumbles backward yet again. He falls hard on the concrete with a big groan, panting hard. Ra's rushes over to his sword, picks it up and returns to Bruce just as he is about to push himself up. He kicks his face and he lies back again. Ra's presses his foot down hard on his chest, kneeling to come closer to face him, the tip of his sword on his abdomen in a space between two kevlar plates.

"Yield..."

Bruce is still panting, looking slightly fearful.

"I truly am sorry to have to do this to you, Bruce..."

"No...," Bruce replies with a groan, "you're not."

Ra's slowly shakes his head. "You left me no choice..." Ra's tightens his grip on the sword.

It's faint, but a gunshot sounds from far away. A split second later something quiet yet incredibly fast whizzes over Bruce and hits Ra's in the chest with a harsh PFFT! Ra's gasps, his face frozen with shock for a moment. His grip on the sword loosens and it topples to the ground with clang. He tilts his head downward. A tiny dark red wet spot is barely visible on his black suit, and it's already running down to his stomach. Bruce is nothing less than shocked, but doesn't have enough time to react before a second faint shot is heard and PFFT! Ra's collapses on the concrete with a red mark now on his neck.

From a few rooftops away, his helmet set to the side, Jackson lies prone looking through the scope of the rifle and watches the stranger in the black suit collapse beside the Batman. Batman gets to his feet and stares at the man for a moment, clearly in disbelief at the scene before him. He then darts his gaze toward the direction of the shot, peering to see if he can catch his savior. Despite acting as such, however, Jackson frowns at the Batman. He stands up, rile in his hands, and stares at him until he finally notices him there. It's impossible to tell from this distance but Jackson imagines the shock is still etched on Batman's face, but for a different reason now. After a moment, the Catwoman slowly stands herself up, her hand to her chest, which catches Batman's attention and he makes his way over to her.

"Don't make me regret this...," says Jackson.

"Are you all right?" Bruce asks.

Selina groans a little. "Feels a bit worse than a hangover, but I think I'll pull through." She then notices Ra's lying lifeless on the ground with much surprise. "Did you...?"

Bruce shakes his head. "It was him, the Red Hood, with a rifle. He must have followed us here."

A tiny groan. "Seems like he took a chance on you."

Bruce nods and looks at her chest. "Where'd you get the vest?"

Selina gives a small laugh. "I had it made, so it would fit underneath my outfit. Unh...never had it used before now, though. I suppose I should have been ready for what happened."

"Just be thankful it worked."

"I paid good money for this. It better have worked."

"Your money?"

Selina smirks. She then places a hand on Bruce's cheek. "Hey...we did it."

Bruce holds it in place and allows her to lean in close for a kiss...

The door to the roof opens and out comes the Red Hood, only his helmet is held to his side, the rifle he used to kill Ra's is attached to his back. Bruce and Selina turn to him. He's just a young man, appearing to be in his mid-twenties. Brown hair and a shadow of facial hair, wearing black tactical garment with two handguns holstered to his side. The young man raises and eyebrow upon seeing the two of them almost about to kiss.

"Didn't mean to cockblock there. Mind if I interrupt?"

Selina's hand slides off Bruce's face and Bruce places his to his side.

"There were a couple men posing as police guarding the entrance," the young man says, taking a few steps toward them. "I assume they worked for that guy." He indicated Ra's on the ground.

Bruce nods. "Yes... Who are you?"

The young man pauses for a moment before answering. "My name's Jackson."

Bruce shakes his head. "You didn't have to do that."

"And by that," Selina cuts in, "he means 'thank you'."

Jackson shrugs. "Yeah, well... After seeing what you did back there and up here, I thought maybe you could be telling the truth about Dent."

"I did," he answers.

"You say so... Anyways...I'm not going to go after you anymore, but..." And he holds up his arms slightly, tilting his head to side a little. The rest of the question is obvious to Bruce, though.

Bruce slowly shakes his head. "I can't promise I won't go after you."

Jackson shrugs, seeming to expect this answer from him. "Fair enough. You'll just have to catch me then." He turns and makes back for the doorway, then looks back at him when he reaches it. "Looking forward to round two," he says with a tiny smirk before slipping his red helmet over his head, opening the door and closing it behind him.

Selina can't help but give a playful grin. "I like him." She turns to Bruce. "Can I watch the next little brawl you boys have?"

Bruce rolls his eyes and walks to the Bat while Selina giggles.

Back at Blackgate there is a large group of orange as the prisoners are being dragged back into the prison by the GCPD. The League members posing as cops are shoved into police vehicles. Up on the roof of the GCN building the four League members there are also taken into custody. The body of Ra's al Ghul is placed in a body bag that is zipped up and taken into a helicopter. On the streets the police round up the stray inmates that had not yet been captured before now and place them in their vehicles to be taken back to Blackgate. A small handful of citizens are also cuffed and taken into police custody, the handguns on their person sealed up as evidence.

Outside of GCPD headquarters, several men and women with microphones and cameras and the like are huddled by the entrance, standing before police commissioner James Gordon. He looks around at them all for a moment, takes a deep breath in and out, and pulls out a slip of paper from his pocket.

"Thank you all for coming," he says, "It's time that Gotham learned the truth about Harvey Dent..." And he lifts the paper up neck-level, unfolds it and clears his throat.

"The Batman didn't murder Harvey Dent," explains the police commissioner on the television screen, "he saved my boy, then took the blame for Harvey's appalling crimes so I could, to my shame, build a lie around this fallen idol."

Bruce and Alfred watch this broadcast from the living room area, Bruce with his hands in his pockets and Alfred with his arms crossed. Both of them appear to be rather surprised by this press conference.

"I praised the madman who tried to murder my own child. But I can no longer live with my lie. It is time to trust the people of Gotham with the truth..."

Bruce's phone vibrates and he takes it out of his pocket, answering. "You're watching it, too?"

Selina's voice is heard on the other line, sounding pleased. "I am. You must be relieved."

Bruce gives a small sigh. "I wish Jim hadn't done that, but...it's good to know I won't have to worry about the police for now."

"It's a shame what had happened to Harvey, and Gotham will be surely be devastated to here the truth. But he chose to do what he did and you wanted to protect his old image, the people needed to know that."

Bruce makes a small sad smile. "Thank you, Selina."

"Sure. Anyways...how does dinner at Uriah's Thursday night sound?"

The smile shifts from being sad and widens a little. "I think I can make time for that."

"Good... See you then, pretty boy." There's a click and Bruce ends the call. He turns to Alfred who's staring back with a big smirk on his face. He must have been able to hear the conversation, especially the end of it.

Bruce sighs a little and shakes his head, a tiny smile on his mouth. "What?"

But Alfred simply shakes his head. "Nothing, sir."

Bruce nods and turns away. "Uh huh..."

As the two of them walk out of the room, Alfred asks, "And what suit do you think you'll wear for that night?"

Night covers the city of Gotham. If any crime is going to happen, it will more than likely occur during this period, as most any citizen will know too well. Crouched low on a building statue perched high above the streets with his cape draped over it, Batman looks down upon the city, paying attention to the sounds his listening device is picking up. Cars rolling by, passersby along the sidewalks, idle chatter amongst fellow citizens, the hailing of cabs, the light screeching of a nearby subway train...

...and gunshots being fired. The device picks up the noise coming from somewhere to his right.

"All units, 10-34s on Hawthorne Street," he hears shortly after, coming from a vehicle radio, "appears to be a home invasion. Any nearby personnel please respond."

He leaps off the statue and spreads his arms out to open up his cape to its rigid gliding form and swoops off in the direction of the gunfire.

From the roof of an apartment building elsewhere in the city, a silhouetted figure stands idle while listening to the chatter from their portable police scanner.

"Repeat, any nearby units please report to Wilhelm National on 32nd where a robbery is in progress..."

They shut off the radio and make their way down the building by climbing down the fire escape. A sports bike waits for them at the bottom and they straddle themselves onto it and bring the engine to life. Light from the nearby street lamps illuminate the figure as they exit the alleyway and the Red Hood swerves in the direction of the crime in progress. He weaves through the traffic and fades away as he rides further and further down the street.

THE END


End file.
